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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


G-IFT    OF 

s^ 

CLXSS  O.F  1883, 


5- 


IPI 


HALF    HOURS 


WITH 

MODERN  SCIENTISTS. 

LECTURES  AND  ESSAYS 

BY 

I'ROFS.    HUXLEY,     BARKER,     STIRLING,    COPE    ANI> 
TYNDALL. 

WITH 

A  GENERAL  INTRODUCTION 

BY 
NOAH  PORTER,  D.D.,  LL.D., 

PRESIDENT   OF  YALE  COLLEGE. 


FIRST 


CHARLES  C,  CHATFIELD  &  Co., 
1872. 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1872,  by 

CHARLES  C.  CHATFIELD  &  Co., 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress^at  Washington,  D.  C. 


NEW  HAVEN,   CONN.  : 
THE  COLLEGE  COURANT   PRINT. 


ghctrotypedby  E.  B.  Sheldon,  New  Haven, 


CONTENTS. 


GENERAL  INTRODUCTION. 

BY  PREST.  PORTER, 


ON  THE  PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  LIFE. 

PROF.  T.  H.    HUXLEY,.        .-*...         i 

CORRELATION  OF  VITAL  AND  PHYSICAL  FORCES. 

PROF.  G.  F.  BARKER,  M.D.,  ...          37 

As  REGARDS  PROTOPLASM — REPLY  TO  HUXLEY. 

JAMES    HUTCHISON   STIRLING,    ...         73 

ON   THE  HYPOTHESIS  OF  EVOLUTION. 

PROF.  E.  D.  COPE, 145 

SCIENTIFIC  ADDRESSES. 

ON  THE  METHODS   AND  TENDENCIES  OF  PHYSICAL  IN- 
VESTIGATION,         219 

ON  HAZE  AND  DUST, 234 

ON  THE  SCIENTIFIC  USE  OF  THE  IMAGINATION,         .        247 
PROF.  JOHN   TYNDALL,  LL.D.,    F.R.S.,        .        217 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  NEW  EDITION 

OF  HALF-HOURS  WITH  MODERN 

SCIENTISTS. 

The  title  of  this  Series  of  Essays — Half  Hours 
with  Modern  Scientists — suggests  a  variety  of 
thoughts,  some  of  which  may  not  be  inappropriate 
for  a  brief  introduction  to  a  new  edition.  Scientist 
is  a  modern  appellation  which  has  been  specially 
selected  to  designate  a  devotee  to  one  or  more 
branches  of  physical  science.  Strictly  interpreted 
it  might  properly  be  applied  to  the  student  of  any 
department  of  knowledge  when  prosecuted  in  a 
scientific  method,  but  for  convenience  it  is  limited 
to  the  student  of  some  branch  of  physics.  It  is 
not  thereby  conceded  that  nature,  i.  e.,  physical  or 
material  nature  is  any  more  legitimately  or  ex- 
clusively the  field  for  scientific  enquiries  than  spirit, 
or  that  whether  the  objects  of  science  are  material 
or  spiritual,  the  assumptions  and  processes  of 
science  themselves  should  not  be  subjected  to  scien- 
tific analysis  and  justification.  There  are  so-called 
philosophers  who  adopt  both  these  conclusions. 
There  are  those  who  reason  and  dogmatize  as 
though  nature  were  synonymous  with  matter,  or  as 
though  spirit,  if  there  be  such  an  essence,  must  be 
conceived  and  explained  after  the  principles  and 
analogies  of  matter  ; — others  assume  that  a  science 
of  scientific  method  can  be  nothing  better  than  the 


VI 


mist  or  moonshine  which  they  vilify  by  the  name  of 
metaphysics.  But  unfortunately  for  such  opinions 
the  fact  is  constantly  forced  upon  the  attention  of 
scientists  of  every  description,  that  the  agent  by 
which  they  examine  matter  is  more  than  matter, 
and  that  this  agent,  whatever  be  its  substance,  asserts 
its  prerogatives  to  determine  the  conceptions 
which  the  scientist  forms  of  matter  as  well  as  to 
the  methods  by  which  he  investigates  material  pro- 
perties. Even  the  positivist  philosopher  who  not 
only  denounces  metaphysics  as  illegitimate,  but  also 
contends  that  the  metaphysical  era  of  human  in- 
quiry, has  in  the  development  of  scientific  progress 
been  outgrown  like  the  measles,  which  is  expe- 
rienced but  once  in  a  life-time ;  finds  when  his 
positivist  theory  is  brought  to  the  test  that  positiv- 
ism itself  in  its  very  problem  and  its  solutions,  is 
but  the  last  adopted  metaphysical  theory  of  science. 
We  also  notice  that  it  is  very  difficult,  if  not  im- 
possible, for  the  inquisitive  scientist  to  limit  himself 
strictly  to  the  object-matter  of  his  own  chosen  field, 
and  not  to  enquire  more  or  less  earnestly — not  in- 
frequently to  dogmatize  more  or  less  positively — 
respecting  the  results  of  otfier  sciences  and  even 
respecting  the  foundations  and  processes  of  scien- 
tific inquiry  itself.  Thus  Mr.  Huxley  in  the  first 
Essay  of  this  Series  on  The  Physical  Basis  of  Life, 
leaves  the  discussion  of  his  appropriate  theme  in 
order  to  deliver  sundry  very  positive  and  pro- 
nounced assertions  respecting  the  "  limits  of  philoso- 
phical inquiry,"  and  quotes  with  manifest  satisfac- 
tion a  dictum  of  David  Hume  that  is  sufficiently 
dogmatic  and  positive,  as  to  what  these  limits  are. 


Vll 


In  more  than  one  of  his  Lay  sermons,  he  rushes 
headlong  into  the  most  p/onounced  assertions  in  re- 
spect to  the  nature  of  matter  and  of  spirit.  The  elo- 
quent Tyndall,  in  No.  5,  expounds  at  length  The 
Methods  and  Tendencies  of  Physical  Investigation  and 
discourses  eloquently,  if  occasionally  somewhat  po- 
etically, of  Tlie  Scientific  use  of  tJie  Imagination.  But 
Messrs.  Huxley  and  Tyndall  are  eminent  examples 
of  scientists  who  are  severely  and  successfully 
devoted  respectively  to  physiology  and  the  higher 
physics.  No  one  will  contend  that  they  have  not 
faithfully  cultivated  their  appropriate  fields  of  in- 
quiry. The  fact  that  neither  can  be  content  to  con- 
fine himself  within  his  special  field,  forcibly  illus- 
trates the  tendency  of  every  modern  science  to 
concern  itself  with  its  relations  to  its  neighbors, 
and  the  unresistible  necessity  which  forces  the  most 
rigid  physicist  to  become  a  metaphysician  in  spite  of 
himself.  So  much  for  the  appellation  "  Scientists'.' 

"Half  Hours"  suggests  the  very  natural  inquiry 
— What  can  a  scientist  communicate  in  half  an 
hour,  especially  to  a  reader  who  may  be  ignorant 
of  the  elements  of  the  science  which  he  would  ex- 
pound ?  Does  not  the  phrase  Half  Hours  with 
Modern  Scientists  stultify  itself  and  suggest  the 
folly  of  any  attempt  to  treat  of  science  with  effect 
in  a  series  of  essays  ?  In  reply  we  would  ask  the 
attention  of  the  reader  to  the  following  considera- 
tions. 

The  tendency  is  universal  among  the  scientific 
men  of  all  nations,  to  present  the  principles  of 
science  in  such  brief  summaries  or  statements  as 
may  bring  them  within  the  reach  of  common  readers. 


Vlll 

The  tendency  indicates  that  there  is  a  large  body  of 
readers  who  are  so  far  instructed  in  the  elements  of 
science  as  to  be  able  to  understand  these  summaries. 
In  England,  Germany,  France  and  this  country  such 
brief  essays  are  abundant,  either  in  the  form  of  con- 
tributions to  popular  and  scientific  journals,  or  in 
that  of  popular  lectures,  or  in  that  of  brief  manuals, 
or  of  monographs  on  separate  topics  ;  especially 
such  topics  as  are  novel,  or  are  interesting  to  the 
public  for  their  theoretic  brilliancy,  or  their  applica- 
tions to  industry  and  art. 

These  essays  need  not  be  and  they  are  not  always 
superficial,  because  they  are  brief.  They  often  are 
the  more  profound  on  account  of  their  conciseness, 
as  when  they  contain  a  condensed  summary  of  the 
main  principles  of  the  art  or  science  in  question, 
or  a  brief  history  of  the  successive  experiments 
which  have  issued  in  some  brilliant  discovery. 
These  essays  are  very  generally  read,  even  though 
they  are  both  concise  and  profound.  But  they  could 
not  be  read  even  though  they  were  less  profound 
than  they  are,  were  there  not  provided  a  numerous 
company  of  readers  who  are  sufficiently  instructed 
in  science  to  appreciate  them.  That  such  a  body 
of  readers  exists  in  the  countries  referred  to,  is 
easily  explained  by  the  existence  of  public  schools 
and  schools  of  science  and  technology,  by  the 
enormous  extension  of  the  knowledge  of  machinery, 
engineering,  mining,  dyeing,  etc.,  etc.,  all  of  which 
imply  a  more  or  less  distinct  recognition  of  scien- 
tific principles  and  stimulate  the  curiosity  in  regard 
to  scientific  truth.  Popular  lectures  also,  illustrated 
by  experiments,  have  been  repeated  before  thousands 


IX 

of  excited  listeners,  and  the  eager  and  inventive 
minds  of  multitudes  of  ingenious  youths  have  been 
trained  by  this  distribution  of  science,  to  the  ca- 
pacity to  comprehend  the  compact  and  pointed 
scientific  essay,  even  though  it  taxes  the  attention 
and  suspends  the  breath  for  a  half-hour  by  its  close- 
ness and  severity. 

The  fact  is  also  worthy  of  notice,  that  many  of 
the  ablest  scientists  of  our  times  have  made  a  special 
study  of  the  art  of  expounding  and  presenting  scien- 
tific truth.  Some  of  them  have  schooled  themselves 
to  that  lucid  and  orderly  method  by  which  a  science 
seems  to  spring  into  being  a  second  time,  under 
the  creative  hand  of  its  skilful  expositor.  Others 
have  made  a  special  study  of  philosophic  diction. 
Others  have  learned  how  to  adorn  scientific  truth 
with  the  embellishments  of  an  affluent  imagination. 
Some  of  the  ablest  writers  of  our  time  are  found 
among  the  devotees  of  physical  science.  That  a 
few  scientific  writers  and  lecturers  may  have  ex- 
emplified some  of  the  most  offensive  features  of  the 
demagogue  and  the  sophist  cannot  be  denied,  but 
we  may  not  forget  that  many  have  attained  to  the 
consummate  skill  of  the  accomplished  essayist  and 
impressive  and  eloquent  orator. 

One  advantage  cannot  be  denied  of  this  now 
popular  and  established  method  of  setting  forth 
scientific  truth,  viz.,  that  it  prescribes  a  convenient 
method  of  bringing  into  contrast  the  arguments  for 
and  against  any  disputed  position  in  science.  If 
materialism  can  furnish  its  ready  advocate  with  a 
convenient  vehicle  for  its  ready  diffusion,  the  an- 
tagonist theory  can  avail  itself  of  a  similar  vehicle 


for  the  communication  of  the  decisive  and  pungent 
reply.  The  one  is  certain  to  call  forth  the  other, 
and  if  the  two  are  present  side  by  side  in  the  same 
series,  so  much  the  better  is  it  for  the  truth  and  so 
much  the  worse  for  the  error.  The  teacher  before 
his  class,  the  lecturer  in  the  presence  of  his  audience, 
has  the  argument  usually  to  himself ;  he  allows  few 
questionings  and  admits  no  reply.  An  erroneous 
theory  may  entrench  itself  within  a  folio  against 
arguments  which  would  annihilate  its  positions  if 
these  were  condensed  in  a  tract. 

This  consideration  should  dispel  all  the  alarm 
that  is  felt  by  the  defenders  of  religion  in  view  of 
the  general  diffusion  of  popular  scientific  treatises. 
The  brief  statement  of  a  false  or  groundless  scien- 
tific theory,  even  by  its  defender,  is  often  its  most 
effectual  refutation.  A  magnificently  imposing 
argument  often  shrinks  into  insignificance  when  its 
advocate  is  forced  to  state  its  substance  in  a  com- 
pact and  close-jointed  outline.  The  articulations 
are  seen  to  be  defective,  the  joints  do  not  fit  one 
another,  the  coherence  is  conspicuously  wanting. 
Let  then  error  do  its  utmost  in  the  field  of  science. 
Its  deficient  data  and  its  illogical  processes  are  cer- 
tain to  be  exposed,  sometimes  even  by  its  own  advo- 
cates. If  this  does  not  happen  the  defender  of  that 
scientific  truth  which  seems  to  be  essential  to  the 
teachings  and  faiths  of  religion,  must  scrutinize  its 
reasonings  by  the  rules  and  methods  of  scientific 
inquiry.  If  science  seems  to  be  hostile  to  religion, 
this  very  seeming  should  arouse  the  defender  of 
Theism  and  Christianity  to  examine  into  the  grounds 
both  by  the  light  and  methods  which  are  appropriate 


XI 


to  science  itself.  The  more  brief  and  compact  and 
popular  is  the  argument  which  he  is  to  refute,  the 
more  feasible  is  the  task  of  exposure  and  reply. 
Only  let  this  be  a  cardinal  maxim  with  the  defender 
of  the  truth,  that  whatever  is  scientifically  defended 
and  maintained  must  be  scientifically  refuted  and 
overthrown.  The  great  Master  of  our  faith  never 
uttered  a  more  comprehensive  or  a  grander  maxim 
than  the  memorable  words,  "  To  this  end  was  I  born 
and  for  this  cdns  e  came  I  into  the  world,  that  I  should 
bear  witness  imto  the  truth.  Everyone  that  is  of  the 
truth  heareth  my  voice"  It  would  be  easy  to  show 
that  the  belief  in  moral  and  religious  truth  and  the 
freedom  in  searching  for  and  defending  it  which  was 
inspired  by  these  words  have  been  most  efficient  in 
training  the  human  mind  to  that  faith  in  the  results 
of  scientific  investigation  which  characterize  the 
modern  scientist.  That  Christian  believer  must 
either  have  a  very  imperfect  view  of  the  spirit  of 
his  own  faith,  or  a  very  narrow  conception  of  the 
evidences  and  the  effect  of  its  teachings,  who  im- 
agines that  the  freest  spirit  of  scientific  inquiry,  or 
the  most  penetrating  insight  into  the  secrets  of 
matter  or  of  spirit  can  have  any  other  consequence 
than  to  strengthen  and  brighten  the  evidence  for 
Christian  truth. 

N.  P. 
YALE  COLLEGE,  May,  1872, 


PUBLISHERS'  NOTE  TO  SECOND  EDITION. 

The  five  lectures  embodied  in  this  First  Series  of  Half  Hours 
with  Modern  Scientists  were  first  published  as  Nos.  I. — V.  of  the 
Univefsity  Scientific  Series.  In  this  series  the  publishers  have 
aimed  to  give  to  the  public  in  a  cheap  pamphlet  form,  the  advance 
thought  in  the  Scientific  world.  The  intrinsic  value  of  these  lec- 
tures has  created  a  very  general  desire  to  have  them  put  in  a  perma- 
nent form.  They  therefore  have  brought  them  out  in  this  style. 
Each  five  succeeding  numbers  of  this  celebrated  series  will  be 
printed  and  bound  in  uniform  style  with  this  volume,  and  be  desig- 
nated as  second  series,  third  series,  and  so  on.  Henceforth  it  will 
be  the  design  of  the  publishers  to  give  preference  to  those  lectures 
and  essays  of  American  scientists  which  contain  original  research 
and  discovery,  rather  than  to  reprinting  from  European  sources.  The 
lectures  in  the  second  series  will  be  (i)  On  Natural  Selection  as 
Applied  to  Man,  by  Alfred  Russel  Wallace ;  (2)  three  profoundly 
interesting  lectures  on  Spectrum  Analysis,  by  Profs.  Roscoe,  Hug* 
gins,  and  Lockyer ;  (3)  the  Sun  and  its  Different  Atmospheres, 
a  lecture  by  Prof.  C.  A.  Young,  Ph.D.,  of  Dartmouth  College ;  (4) 
the  Earth  a  great  Magnet,  by  Prof.  A.  M.  Mayer,  Ph.D.,  of  Stevens 
Institute ;  and  (5)  the  Mysteries  of  the  Voice  and  Ear,  by  Prof. 
Ogden  N.  Rood,  of  Columbia  College.  The  last  three  lectures 
contain  many  original  discoveries  and  brilliant  experiments,  and  are 
finely  illustrated. 


ON  THE  PHYSICAL  BASIS  OF  LIFE. 


INTRODUCTION, 


The  following  remarkable  discourse  was  originally  delivered  in 
Edinburg,  November  i8th,  1868,  as  the  first  of  a  series  of  Sunday 
evening  addresses,  upon  non-religious  topics,  instituted  by  the  Rev. 
J.  Cranbrook.  It  was  subsequently  published  in  London  as  the 
leading  article  in  the  Fortnightly  Review,  for  February,  1869,  and  at- 
tracted so  much  attention  that  five  editions  of  that  number  of  the 
magazine  have  already  been  issued.  It  is  now  re-printed  in  this 
country,  in  permanent  form,  for  the  first  time,  and  will  doubtless 
prove  of  great  interest  to  American  readers.  The  author  is 
Thomas  Henry  Huxley,  of  London,  Professor  of  Natural  History 
in  the  Royal  School  of  Mines,  and  of  Comparative  Anatomy  and 
Physiology  in  the  Royal  College  of  Surgeons.  He  is  also  Presi- 
dent of  the  Geological  Society  of  London.  Although  comparatively 
a  young  man,  his  numerous  and  valuable  contributions  to  Natural 
Science  entitle  him  to  be  considered  one  of  the  first  of  living  Nat- 
uralists, especially  in  the  departments  of  Zoology  and  Paleontol- 
ogy, to  which  he  has  mainly  devoted  himself.  He  is  undoubtedly 
the  ablest  English  advocate  of  Darwin's  theory  of  the  Origin  of 
Species,  particularly  with  reference  to  its  application  to  the  human 
race,  which  he  believes  to  be  nearly  related  to  the  higher  apes.  It 
is,  indeed,  through  his  discussion  of  this  question  that  he  is,  per- 
haps, best  known  to  the  general  public,  as  his  late  work  entitled 
"  Man's  Place  in  Nature,"  and  other  writings  on  similar  topics, 
have  been  very  widely  read  in  this  country  and  in  Europe.  In  the 
present  lecture  Professor  Huxley  discusses  a  kindred  subject  of  no 
less  interest  and  importance,  and  should  have  an  equally  candid 
hearing. 

YALE  COLLEGE,  March  30^,  1869. 


On  the  Physical  Basis  of  Life. 


In  order  to  make  the  title  of  this  discourse  generally 
intelligible,  I  have  translated  the  term  "Protoplasm," 
which  is  the  scientific  name  of  the  substance  of  which  I 
am  about  to  speak,  by  the  words  "  the  physical  basis  of 
life."  I  suppose  that,  to  many,  the  idea  that  there  is 
such  a  thing  as  a  physical  basis,  or  matter,  of  life  may 
be  novel — so  widely  spread  is  the  conception  of  life  as 
a  something  which  works  through  matter,  but  is  inde- 
pendent of  it ;  and  even  those  who  are  aware  that  mat- 
ter and  life  are  inseparably  connected,  may  not  be  pre- 
pared for  the  conclusion  plainly  suggested  by  the  phrase 
"  the  physical  basis  or  matter  of  life,"  that  there  is  some 
one  kind  of  matter  which  is  common  to  all  living  beings, 
and  that  their  endless  diversities  are  bound  together  by 
a  physical,  as  well  as  an  ideal,  unity.  In  fact,  when  first 
apprehended,  such  a  doctrine  as  this  appears  almost 
shocking  to  common  sense.  What,  truly,  can  seem  to  be 
more  obviously  different  from  one  another  in  ficulty,  in 
form,  and  in  substance,  than  the  various  kinds  of  living 
beings  ?  What  community  of  faculty  can  there  be  be- 
tween the  brightly-colored  lichen,  which  so  nearly  re- 
sembles a  mere  mineral  incrustation  of  the  bare  rock  on 


which  it  grows,  and  the  painter,  to  whom  it  is  instinct  with 
beauty,  or  the  botanist,  whom  it  feeds  with  knowledge  ? 

Again,  think  of  the  microscopic  fungus — a  mere  in- 
finitesimal ovoid  particle,  which  finds  space  and  duration 
enough  to  multiply  into  countless  millions  in  the  body 
of  a  living  fly ;  and  then  of  the  wealth  of  foliage,  the 
luxuriance  of  flower  and  fruit,  which  lies  between  this 
bald  sketch  of  a  plant  and  the  giant  pine  of  California, 
towering  to  the  dimensions  of  a  cathedral  spire,  or  the 
Indian  fig,  which  covers  acres  with  its  profound  shadow, 
and  endures  while  nations  and  empires  come  and  go 
around  its  vast  circumference  !  Or,  turning  to  the  other 
half  of  the  world  of  life,  picture  to  yourselves  the  great 
finner  whale,  hugest  of  beasts  that  live,  or  have  lived, 
disporting  his  eighty  or  ninety  feet  of  bone,  muscle  and 
blubber,  with  easy  roll,  among  waves  in  which  the  stout- 
est ship  that  ever  left  dockyard  would  founder  hope- 
lessly ;  and  contrast  him  with  the  invisible  animalcules — 
mere  gelatinous  specks,  multitudes  of  which  could,  in 
fact,  dance  upon  the  point  of  a  needle  with  the  same  ease 
as  the  angels  of  the  schoolmen  could,  in  imagination. 
With  these  images  before  your  minds,  you  may  well  ask 
what  community  of  form,  or  structure,  is  there  between 
the  animalcule  and  the  whale,  or  between  the  fungus  and 
fig-tree  ?  And,  a  fortiori,  between  all  four  ? 

Finally,  if  we  regard  substance,  or  material  composi- 
tion, what  hidden  bond  can  connect  the  flower  which  a 
girl  wears  in  her  hair  and  the  blood  which  courses  through 
her  youthful  veins  ;  or,  what  is  there  in  common  between 
the  dense  and  resisting  mass  of  the  oak,  or  the  strong 
fabric  of  the  tortoise,  and  tb^**.  broad  disks  of  glassy 


jelly  which  may  be  seen  pulsating  through  the  waters  of 
a  calm  sea,  but  which  drain  away  to  mere  films  in  the 
hand  which  raises  them  out  of  their  element  ?  Such  ob- 
jections  as  these  must,  I  think,  arise  in  the  mind  of  every 
one  who  ponders,  for  the  first  time,  upon  the  conception 
of  a  single  physical  basis  of  life  underlying  all  the  diver- 
sities of  vital  existence  ;  but  I  propose  to  demonstrate 
to  you  that,  notwithstanding  these  apparent  difficulties, 
a  threefold  unity — namely,  a  unity  of  power  or  faculty, 
a  unity  of  form,  and  a  unity  of  substantial  composition — 
does  pervade  the  whole  living  world.  No  very  abstruse 
argumentation  is  needed,  in  the  first  place,  to  prove  that 
the  powers,  or  faculties,  of  all  kinds  of  living  matter,  di- 
verse as  they  may  be  in  degree,  are  substantially  similar 
in  kind.  Goethe  has  condensed  a  survey  of  all  the  pow- 
ers of  mankind  into  the  well-known  epigram  : 

"  Warum  treibt  sich  das  Volk  so  und  schreit  ?    Es  will  sich  ernahren 

Kinder  zeugen,  und  sie  nahren  so  gut  es  vermag. 
*  **  **  **** 

Weiter  bringt  es  kein  Mensch,  stelF  er  sich,  wie  er  auch  will." 

In  physiological  language  this  means,  that  all  the  multi- 
farious and  complicated  activities  of  man  are  compre- 
hensible under  three  categories.  Either  they  are  imme- 
diately directed  towards  the  maintenance  and  devel- 
opment of  the  body,  or  they  effect  transitory  changes 
in  the  relative  positions  of  parts  of  the  body,  or  they 
tend  towards  the  continuance  of  the  species.  Even 
those  manifestations  of  intellect,  of  feeling,  and  of  will, 
which  we  rightly  name  the  higher  faculties,  are  not  ex- 
cluded from  this  classification,  inasmuch  as  to  every  one 
but  the  subject  of  them,  they  are  known  only  as  transit- 


10 

ory  changes  in  the  relative  positions  of  parts  of  the  body. 
Speech,  gesture,  and  every  other  form  of  human  action 
are,  in  the  long  run,  resolvable  into  muscular  contrac- 
tion., and  muscular  contraction  is  but  a  transitory  change 
in  the  relative  positions  of  the  parts  of  a  muscle.  But 
the  scheme,  which  is  large  enough  to  embrace  the  activ- 
ities of  the  highest  form  of  life,  covers  all  those  of  the 
lower  creatures.  The  lowest  plant,  or  animalcule,  feeds, 
grows  and  reproduces  its  kind.  In  addition,  all  animals 
manifest  those  transitory  changes  of  form  which  we  class 
under  irritability  and  contractility ;  and  it  is  more  than 
probable,  that  when  the  vegetable  world  is  thoroughly 
explored,  we  shall  find  all  plants  in  possession  of  the 
same  powers,  at  one  time  or  other  of  their  existence.  I 
am  not  now  alluding  to  such  phenomena,  at  once  rare 
and  conspicuous,  as  those  exhibited  by  the  leaflets  of 
the  sensitive  plant,  or  the  stamens  of  the  barberry,  but 
to  much  more  widely-spread,  and,  at  the  same  time,  more 
subtle  and  hidden,  manifestations  of  vegetable  contrac- 
tility. You  are  doubtless  aware  that  the  common  nettle 
owes  its  stinging  property  to  the  innumerable  stiff  and 
needle-like,  though  exquisitely  delicate,  hairs  which  cover 
its  surface.  Each  stinging-needle  tapers  from  a  broad 
base  to  a  slender  summit,  which,  though  rounded  at  the 
end,  is  of  such  microscopic  fineness  that  it  readily  pen- 
etrates, and  breaks  off  in,  the  skin.  The  whole  hair 
consists  of  a  very  delicate  outer  case  of  wood,  closely 
applied  to  the  inner  surface  of  which  is  a  layer  of  semi- 
fluid matter,  full  of  innumerable  granules  of  extreme 
minuteness.  This  semi-fluid  lining  is  protoplasm,  which 
thus  constitutes  a  kind  of  bag,  full  of  a  limpid  liquid, 


II 

and  roughly  corresponding  in  form  with  the  interior  of 
the  hair  which  it  fills.  When  viewed  with  a  sufficiently 
high  magnifying  power,  the  protoplasmic  layer  of  the 
nettle  hair  is  seen  to  be  in  a  condition  of  unceasing  ac- 
tivity. Local  contractions  of  the  whole  thickness  of  its 
substance  pass  slowly  and  gradually  from  point  to  point, 
and  give  rise  to  the  appearance  of  progressive  waves, 
just  as  the  bending  of  successive  stalks  of  corn  by  a 
breeze  produces  the  apparent  billows  of  a  corn-field. 
But,  in  addition  to  these  movements,  and  independently 
of  them,  the  granules  are  driven,  in  relatively  rapid 
streams,  through  channels  in  the  protoplasm  which  seem 
to  have  a  considerable  amount  of  persistence.  Most 
commonly,  the  currents  in  adjacent  parts  of  the  proto- 
plasm take  similar  directions  j  and,  thus,  there  is  a  gen- 
eral stream  up  one  side  of  the  hair  and  down  the  other. 
But  this  does  not  prevent  the  existence  of  partial  cur- 
'  rents  which  take  different  routes  ;  and,  sometimes,  trains 
of  granules  may  be  seen  coursing  swiftly  in  opposite 
directions,  within  a  twenty-thousandth  of  an  inch  of  one 
another  j  while,  occasionally,  opposite  streams  come 
into  direct  collision,  and,  after  a  longer  or  shorter  strug- 
gle, one  predominates.  The  cause  of  these  currents 
seem  to  lie  in  contractions  of  the  protoplasm  which 
bounds  the  channels  in  which  they  flow,  but  which  are 
so  minute  that  the  best  microscopes  show  only  their 
effects,  and  not  themselves. 

The  spectacle  afforded  by  the  wonderful  energies  pris- 
oned within  the  compass  of  the  microscopic  hair  of  a 
plant,  which  we  commonly  regard  as  a  merely  passive 
organism,  is  not  easily  forgotten  by  one  who  has  watched 


its  display  continued  hour  after  hour,  without  pause  or 
sign  of  weakening.  The  possible  complexity  of  many 
other  organic  forms,  seemingly  as  simple  as  the  proto- 
plasm of  the  nettle,  dawns  upon  one;  and  the  compari- 
son of  such  a  protoplasm  to  a  body  with  an  internal 
circulation,  which  has  been  put  forward  by  an  eminent 
physiologist,  loses  much  of  its  startling  character.  Cur- 
rents similar  to  those  of  the  hairs  of  the  nettle  have 
been  observed  in  a  great  multitude  of  very  different 
plants,  and  weighty  authorities  have  suggested  that  they 
probably  occur,  in  more  or  les?  perfection,  in  all  young 
vegetable  cells.  If  such  be  the  case,  the  wonderful 
noonday  silence  of  a  tropical  forest  is,  after  all,  due  only 
to  the  dullness  of  our  hearing ;  and  could  our  ears  catch 
the  murmur  of  these  tiny  maelstroms,  as  they  whirl  in 
the  innumerable  myriads  of  living  cells  which  constitute 
each  tree,  we  should  be  stunned,  as  with  the  roar  of  a 
great  city. 

Among  the  lower  plants,  it  is  the  rule  rather  than  the 
exception,  that  contractility  should  be  still  more  openly 
manifested  at  some  periods  of  their  existence.  The 
protoplasm  of  Algce  and  Fungi  becomes,  under  many 
circumstances,  partially,  or  completely,  freed  from  its 
woody  case,  and  exhibits  movements  of  its  whole  mass, 
or  is  propelled  by  the  contractility  of  one  or  more  hair- 
like  prolongations  of  its  body,  which  are  called  vibratile 
cilia.  And,  so  far  as  the  conditions  of  the  manifesta- 
tion of  the  phenomena  of  contractility  have  yet  been 
studied,  they  are  the  same  for  the  plant  as  for  the  ani- 
mal. Heat  and  electric  shocks  influence  both,  and  in 
the  same  way,  though  it  may  be  in  different  degrees.  It 
is  by  no  means  my  intention  to  suggest  that  there  is  no 


difference  in  faculty  between  the  lowest  plant  and  the 
highest,  or  between  plants  and  animals.  But  the  differ- 
ence between  the  powers  of  the  lowest  plant,  or  animal, 
and  those  of  the  highest  is  one  of  degree,  not  of  kind, 
and  depends,  as  Milne-Edwards  long  ago  so  well  pointed 
out,  upon  the  extent  to  which  the  principle  of  the  divis- 
ion of  labor  is  carried  out  in  the  living  economy.  In  the 
lowest  organism  all  parts  are  competent  to  perform  all 
functions,  and  one  and  the  same  portion  of  protoplasm 
may  successively  take  on  the  function  of  feeding,  mov- 
ing, or  reproducing  apparatus.  In  the  highest,  on  the 
contrary,  a  great  number  of  parts  combine  to  perform 
each  function,  each  part  doing  its  allotted  share  of  the 
work  with  great  accuracy  and  efficiency,  but  being  use- 
less for  any  other  purpose.  On  the  other  hand,  notwith- 
standing all  the  fundamental  resemblances  which  exist 
between  the  powers  of  the  protoplasm  in  plants  and  in 
animals,  they  present  a  striking  difference  (to  which  I 
shall  advert  more  at  length  presently,)  in  the  fact  that 
plants  can  manufacture  fresh  protoplasm  out  of  mineral 
compounds,  whereas  animals  are  obliged  to  procure  it 
ready  made,  and  hence,  in  the  long  run,  depend  upon 
plants.  Upon  what  condition  this  difference  in  the  pow- 
ers of  the  two  great  divisions  of  the  world  of  life  de- 
pends, nothing  is  at  present  known. 

With  such  qualification  as  arises  out  of  the  last- 
mentioned  fact,  it  may  be  truly  said  that  the  acts  of  all 
living  things  are  fundamentally  one.  Is  any  such  unity 
predicable  of  their  forms  ?  Let  us  seek  in  easily  verified 
facts  for  a  reply  to  this  question.  If  a  drop  of  blood  be 
drawn  by  pricking  one's  finger,  and  viewed  with  proper 


14 

precautions  and  under  a  sufficiently  high  microscopic 
power,  there  will  be  seen,  among  the  innumerable  mul- 
titude of  little,  circular,  discoidal  bodies,  or  corpuscles, 
which  float  in  it  and  give  it  its  color,  a  comparatively 
small  number  of  colorless  corpuscles,  of  somewhat  lar- 
ger size  and  very  irregular  shape.  If  the  drop  of  blood 
be  kept  at  the  temperature  of  the  body,  these  colorless 
corpuscles  will  be  seen  to  exhibit  a  marvelous  activity, 
changing  their  forms  with  great  rapidity,  drawing  in  and 
thrusting  out  prolongations  of  their  substance,  and  creep- 
ing about  as  if  they  were  independent  organisms.  The 
substance  which  is  thus  active  is  a  mass  of  protoplasm, 
and  its  activity  differs  in  detail,  rather  than  in  principle, 
from  that  of  the  protoplasm  of  the  nettle.  Under  sun- 
dry circumstances  the  corpuscle  dies  and  becomes  dis- 
tended into  a  round  mass,  in  the  midst  of  which  is  seen 
a  smaller  spherical  body,  which  existed,  but  was  more  or 
less  hidden,  in  the  living  corpuscle,  and  is  called  its 
nucleus.  Corpuscles  of  essentially  similar  structure  are 
to  be  found  in  the  skin,  in  the  lining  of  the  mouth,  and 
scattered  through  the  whole  frame  work  of  the  body. 
Nay,  more ;  in  the  earliest  condition  of  the  human  or- 
ganism, in  that  state  in  which  it  has  just  become  distin- 
guishable from  the  egg  in  which  it  arises,  it  is  nothing 
but  an  aggregation  of  such  corpuscles,  and  every  organ 
of  the  body,  was,  once,  -no  more  than  such  an  aggrega- 
tion. Thus  a  nucleated  mass  of  protoplasm  turns  out 
to  be  what  may  be  termed  the  structural  unit  of  the  hu- 
man body.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  body,  in  its  earliest 
state,  is  a  mere  multiple  of  such  units  ;  and,  in  its  per- 
fect condition,  it  is  a  multiple  of  such  units,  variously 


15 

modified.  But  does  the  formula  which  expresses  the  es- 
sential structural  character  of  the  highest  animal  cover 
all  the  rest,  as  the  statement  of  its  powers  and  faculties 
covered  that  of  all  others  ?  Very  nearly.  Beast  and 
fowl,  reptile  and  fish,  mollusk,  worm,  and  polype,  are  all 
composed  of  structural  units  of  the  same  character, 
namely,  masses  of  protoplasm  with  a  nucleus.  There 
are  sundry  very  low  animals,  each  of  which,  structurally, 
is  a  mere  colorless  blood-corpuscle,  leading  an  independ- 
ent life.  But,  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  animal  scale, 
even  this  simplicity  becomes  simplified,  and  all  the  phe- 
nomena of  life  are  manifested  by  a  particle  of  proto- 
plasm without  a  nucleus.  Nor  are  such  organisms 
insignificant  by  reason  of  their  want  of  complexity.  It 
is  a  fair  question  whether  the  protoplasm  of  those  sim- 
plest forms  of  life,  which  people  an  immense  extent  of 
the  bottom  of  the  sea,  would  not  outweigh  that  of  all 
the  higher  living  beings  which  inhabit  the  land,  put  to- 
gether. And  in  ancient  times,  no  less  than  at  the  pres- 
ent day,  such  living  beings  as  these  have  been  the  great- 
est of  rock  builders. 

What  has  been  said  of  the  animal  world  is  no  less 
true  of  plants.  Imbedded  in  the  protoplasm  at  the 
broad,  or  attached,  end  of  the  nettle  hair,  there  lies  a 
spheroidal  nucleus.  Careful  examination  further  proves 
that  the  whole  substance  of  the  nettle  is  made  up  of  a 
repetition  of  such  masses  of  nucleated  protoplasm,  eacli 
contained  in  a  wooden  case,  which  is  modified  in  form, 
sometimes  into  a  woody  fibre,  sometimes  into  a  duct 
or  spiral  vessel,  sometimes  into  a  pollen  grain,  or  an 
ovule.  Traced  back  to  its  earliest  state,  the  nettle  arises 


i6 

as  the  man  does,  in  a  particle  of  nucleated  protoplasm. 
And  in  the  lowest  plants,  as  in  the  lowest  animals,  a 
single  mass  of  such  protoplasm  may  constitute  the  whole 
plant,  or  the  protoplasm  may  exist  without  a  nucleus. 
Under  these  circumstances  it  may  well  be  asked,  how 
is  one  mass  of  non-nucleated  protoplasm  to  be  distin- 
guished from  another  ?  why  call  one  "  plant "  and  the 
other  "  animal  ?"  The  only  reply  is  that,  so  far  as  form 
is  concerned,  plants  and  animals  are  not  separable,  and 
that,  in  many  cases,  it  is  a  mere  matter  of  convention 
whether  we  call  a  given  organism  an  animal  or  a  plant. 
There  is  a  living  body  called  jEthalium  septicum,  which 
appears  upon  decaying  vegetable  substances,  and  in  one 
of  its  forms,  is  common  upon  the  surface  of  tan  pits. 
In  this  condition  it  is,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  a  fun- 
gus, and  formerly  was  always  regarded  as  such ;  but  the 
remarkable  investigations  of  De  Bary  have  shown  that, 
in  another  condition,  the  ALthalium  is  an.  actively  loco- 
motive creature,  and  takes  in  solid  matters,  upon  which, 
apparently,  it  feeds,  thus  exhibiting  the  most  character- 
istic feature  of  animality.  Is  this  a  plant,  or  is  it  an 
animal  ?  Is  it  both,  or  is  it  neither  ?  Some  decide  in 
favor  of  the  last  supposition,  and  establish  an  interme- 
diate kingdom,  a  sort  of  biological  No  Man's  Land  for 
all  these  questionable  forms.  But,  as  it  is  admittedly 
impossible  to  draw  any  distinct  boundary  line  between 
this  no  man's  land  and  the  vegetable  world  on  the  one 
hand,  or  the  animal,  on  the  other,  it  appears  to  me  that 
this  proceeding  merely  doubles  the  difficulty  which,  be- 
fore, was  single.  Protoplasm,  simple  or  nucleated,  is 
the  formal  basis  of  all  life.  It  is  the  clay  of  the  potter  ; 


which,  bake  it  and  paint  it  as  he  will,  remains  clay,  sep- 
arated by  artifice,  and  not  by  nature,  from  the  common- 
est brick  or  sun-dried  clod.  Thus  it  becomes  clear  that 
all  living  powers  are  cognate,  and  that  all  living  iorms 
are  fundamentally  of  one  character. 

The  researches  of  the  chemist  have  revealed  a  no  less 
striking  uniformity  of  material  composition  in  living  mat- 
ter. In  perfect  strictness,  it  is  true  that  chemical  inves- 
tigation can  tell  us  little  or  nothing,  directly,  of  the  com- 
position of  living  matter,  inasmuch  as  such  matter  must 
needs  die  in  the  act  of  analysis,  and  upon  this  very  ob- 
vious ground,  objections,  which  I  confess  seem  to  me  to 
be  somewhat  frivolous,  have  been  raised  to  the  drawing 
of  any  conclusions  whatever  respecting  the  composition 
of  actually  living  matter  from  that  of  the  dead  matter 
of  life,  which  alone  is  accessible  to  us.  But  objectors 
of  this  class  do  not  seem  to  reflect  that  it  is  also,  in  strict- 
ness, true  that  we  know  nothing  about  the  composition 
of  any  body  whatever,  as  it  is.  The  statement  that  a 
crystal  of  calc-spar  consists  of  carbonate  of  lime,  is 
quite  true,  it  we  only  mean  that,  by  appropriate  processes, 
it  may  be  resolved  into  carbonic  acid  and  quicklime. 
If  you  pass  the  same  carbonic  acid  over  the  very  quick- 
lime thus  obtained,  you  will  obtain  carbonate  of  lime 
again  ;  but  it  will  not  be  calc-spar,  nor  anything  like  it. 
Can  it,  therefore,  be  said  that  chemical  analysis  teaches 
nothing  about  the  chemical  composition  of  calc-spar  ? 
Such  a  statement  would  be  absurd  ;  but  it  is  hardly  more 
so  than  the  talk  one  occasionally  hears  about  the  useless- 
ness  of  applying  the  results  of  chemical  analysis  to  the 
living  bodies  which  have  yielded  them.  One  fact,  at 


a 

any  rate,  is  out  of  reach  of  such  refinements,  and  this 
is,  that  all  the  forms  of  protoplasm  which  have  yet  been 
examined  contain  the  four  elements,  carbon,  hydrogen, 
oxygen,  and  nitrogen,  in  very  complex  union,  and  that 
they  behave  similarly  towards  several  re-agents.  To  this 
complex  combination,  the  nature  of  which  has  never 
been  determined  with  exactness,  the  name  of  Protein 
has  been  applied.  And  if  we  use  this  term  with  such 
caution  as  may  properly  arise  out  of  our  comparative 
ignorance  of  the  things  for  which  it  stands,  it  may  be 
truly  said,  that  all  protoplasm  is  proteinaceous  j  or,  as 
the  white,  or  albumen,  of  an  egg  is  one  of  the  common- 
est examples  of  a  nearly  pure  proteine  matter,  we  may 
say  that  all  living  matter  is  more  or  less  albuminoid. 
Perhaps  it  would  not  yet  be  safe  to  say  that  all  forms  of 
protoplasm  are  affected  by  the  direct  action  of  electric 
shocks ;  and  yet  the  number  of  cases  in  which  the  con- 
traction of  protoplasm  is  shown  to  be  affected  by  this 
agency  increases,  every  day.  Nor  can  it  be  affirmed  with 
perfect  confidence  that  all  forms  of  protoplasm  are  liable 
to  undergo  that  peculiar  coagulation  at  the  temperature 
of  40  degrees — 50  degrees  centigrade,  which  has  been 
called  "heat-stiffening,"  though  Kiihne's  beautiful  re- 
searches have  proved  this  occurrence  to  take  place  in  so 
many  and  such  diverse  living  beings,  that  it  is  hardly  rash 
to  expect  that  the  law  holds  good  for  all.  Enough  has, 
perhaps,  been  said  to  prove  the  existence  of  a  general 
uniformity  in  the  character  of  the  protoplasm,  or  physi- 
cal basis  of  life,  in  whatever  group  of  living  beings  il 
may  be  studied.  But  it  will  be  understood  that  this  gen- 
eral uniformity  by  no  means  excludes  any  amount  of 


19 

special  modifications  of  the  fundamental  substance.  The 
mineral,  carbonate  of  lime,  assumes  an  immense  diver- 
sity of  characters,  though  no  one  doubts  that  under  all 
these  Protean  changes  it  is  one  and  the  same  thing. 

And  now,  what  is  the  ultimate  fate,  and  what  the  ori- 
gin of  the  matter  of  life  ?  Is  it,  as  some  of  the  older 
naturalists  supposed,  diffused  throughout  the  universe  in 
molecules,  which  are  indestructible  and  unchangeable  in 
themselves  ;  but,  in  endless  transmigration,  unite  in  in- 
numerable permutations,  into  the  diversified  forms  of  life 
we  know  ?  Or,  is  the  matter  of  life  composed  of  ordinary 
matter,  differing  from  it  only  in  the  manner  in  which  its 
atoms  are  aggregated  ?  Is  it  built  up  of  ordinary  matter, 
and  again  resolved  into  ordinary  matter  when  its  work  is 
done?  Modern  science  does  not  hesitate  a  moment  be- 
tween these  alternatives.  Physiology  writes  over  the 
portals  of  life, 

"  Debemur  morti  nos  nostraque," 

with  a  profounder  meaning  than  the  Roman  poet  attached 
to  that  melancholy  line.  Under  whatever  disguise  it 
takes  refuge,  whether  fungus  or  oak,  worm  or  man,  the 
living  protoplasm  not  only  ultimately  dies  and  is  resolved 
into  its  mineral  and  lifeless  constituents,  but  is  always 
dying,  and,  strange  as  the  paradox  may  sound,  could  not 
live  unless  it  died.  In  the  wonderful  story  of  the  "  Peau 
de  Chagrin,"  the  hero  becomes  possessed  of  a  magical 
wild  ass's  skin,  which  yields  him  the  means  of  gratifying 
all  his  wishes.  But  i'ts  surface  represents  the  duration 
of  the  proprietor's  life;  and  for  every  satisfied  de- 
sire the  skin  shrinks  in  proportion  to  the  intensity  of  frui- 
tion, until  at  length  life  and  the  last  handbreadth  of  the 


20 

"  Peau  de  Chagrin,"  disappear  with  the  gratification  of 
a  last  wish.  Balzac's  studies  had  led  him  over  a  wide 
range  of  thought  and  speculation,  and  his  shadowing 
forth  of  physiological  truth  in  this  strange  story  may 
have  been  intentional.  At  any  rate,  the  matter  of  life  is 
a  veritable  "  Peau  de  Chagrin,"  and  for  every  vital  act  it 
is  somewhat  the  smaller.  All  work  implies  waste,  and 
the  work  of  life  results,  directly  or  indirectly,  in  the 
waste  of  protoplasm.  Every  word  uttered  by  a  speaker 
costs  him  some  physical  loss  j  and,  in  the  strictest  sense, 
he  burns  that  others  may  have  light — so  much  elo- 
quence, so  much  of  his  body  resolved  into  caibonic  acid, 
water  and  urea.  It  is  clear  that  this  process  of  expendi- 
ture cannot  go  on  forever.  But,  happily,  the  protoplasmic 
peau  de  chagrin  differs  from  Balzac's  in  its  capacity  of 
being  repaired,  and  brought  back  to  its  full  size,  after 
every  exertion.  For  example,  this  present  lecture,  what- 
ever its  intellectual  worth  to  you,  has  a  certain  physical 
value  to  me,  which  is,  conceivably,  expressible  by  the 
number  of  grains  of  protoplasm  and  other  bodily  sub- 
stance wasted  in  maintaining  my  vital  processes  during 
its  delivery.  My  peau  de  chagrin  will  be  distinctly 
smaller  at  the  end  of  the  discourse  than  it  was  at  the 
beginning.  By-and-by,  I  shall  probably  have  recourse 
to  the  substance  commonly  called  mutton,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  stretching  it  back  to  its  original  size.  Now  this 
mutton  was  once  the  living  protoplasm,  more  or  less  mod- 
ified, of  another  animal — a  sheep.  As  I  shall  eat  it,  it 
is  the  same  matter  altered,  not  only  by  death,  but  by  ex- 
posure to  sundry  artificial  operations  in  the  process  of 
cooking.  But  these  changes,  whatever  be  their  extent, 


have  not  rendered  it  incompetent  to  resume  its  old  func- 
tions as  matter  of  life.  A  singular  inward  laboratory, 
which  I  possess,  will  dissolve  a  certain  portion  of  the 
modified  protoplasm,  the  solution  so  formed  will  pass 
into  my  veins  ;  and  the  subtle  influences  to  which  it  will 
then  be  subjected  will  convert  the  dead  protoplasm  into 
living  protoplasm,  and  transubstantiate  sheep  into  man. 
Nor  is  this  all.  If  digestion  were  a  thing  to  be  trifled 
with,  I  might  sup  upon  lobster,  and  the  matter  of  life  of 
the  crustacean  would  undergo  the  same  wonderful  meta- 
morphosis into  humanity.  And  were  I  to  return  to  my 
own  place  by  sea,  and  undergo  shipwreck,  the  Crustacea 
might,  and  probably  would,  return  the  compliment,  and 
demonstrate  our  common  nature  by  turning  my  proto- 
plasm into  living  lobster.  Or,  if  nothing  better  were  to 
be  had,  I  might  supply  my  wants  with  mere  bread,  and  I 
should  find  the  protoplasm  of  the  wheat-plant  to  be  con- 
vertible into  man,  with  no  more  trouble  than  that  of  the 
sheep,  and  with  far  less,  I  fancy,  than  that  of  the  lobster. 
Hence  it  appears  to  be  a  matter  of  no  great  moment  what 
animal,  or  what  plant,  I  lay  under  contribution  for  proto- 
plasm, and  the  fact  speaks  volumes  for  the  general  iden- 
tity of  that  substance  in  all  living  beings.  I  share  this 
catholicity  of  assimilation  with  other  animals,  all  of 
which,  so  far  as  we  know,  could  thrive  equally  well  on  the 
protoplasm  of  any  of  their  fellows,  or  of  any  plant;  but 
here  the  assimilative  powers  of  the  animal  world  cease. 
A  solution  of  smelling-salts  in  water  with  an  infinites- 
imal proportion  of  some  other  saline  matters,  contains 
all  the  elementary  bodies  which  enter  into  the  composi- 
tion of  protoplasm  ;  but,  as  I  need  hardly  say,  a  hogs- 


22 

head  of  that  fluid  would  not  keep  a  hungry  man  from 
starving,  nor  would  it  save  any  animal  whatever  from  a 
like  fate.  An  animal  cannot  make  protoplasm,  but  must 
take  it  ready-made  from  some  other  animal,  or  some  plant 
— the  animal's  highest  feat  of  constructive  chemistry  be- 
ing to  convert  dead  protoplasm  into  that  living  matter 
of  life  which  is  appropriate  to  itself.  Therefore,  in  seek- 
ing for  the  origin  of  protoplasm,  we  must  eventually  turn 
to  the  vegetable  world.  The  fluid  containing  carbonic 
acid,  water,  and  ammonia,  which  offers  such  a  barmecide 
feast  to  the  animal,  is  a  table  richly  spread  to  multitudes 
of  plants  ;  and  with  a  due  supply  of  only  such  materials, 
many  a  plant  will  not  only  maintain  itself  in  vigor,  but 
grow  and  multiply  until  it  has  increased  a  million-fold, 
or  a  million  million-fold,  the.  quantity  of  protoplasm 
which  it  originally  possessed ;  in  this  way  building  up 
the  matter  of  life,  to  an  indefinite  extent,  from  the  com- 
mon matter  of  the  universe.  Thus  the  animal  can  only 
raise  the  complex  substance  of  dead  protoplasm  to  the 
higher  power,  as  one  may  say,  of  living  protoplasm  ; 
while  the  plant  can  raise  the  less  complex  substances- 
carbonic  acid,  water,  and  ammonia — to  the  same  stage 
of  living  protoplasm,  if  not  to  the  same  level.  But  the 
plant  also  has  its  limitations^  Some  of  the  fungi,  for  ex- 
ample, appear  to  need  higher  compounds  to  start  with, 
and  no  known  plant  can  live  upon  the  uncompounded 
elements  of  protoplasm.  A  plant  supplied  with  pure  car- 
bon,  hydrogen,  oxygen,  and  nitrogen,  phosphorus,  sul- 
phur, and  the  like,  would  as  infallibly  die  as  the  animal 
in  his  bath  of  smelling-salts,  though  it  would  be  sur- 
rounded by  all  the  constituents  of  protoplasm.  Nor, 


23 

indeed,  need  the  process  of  simplification  of  vegetable 
food  be  carried  so  far  as  this,  in  order  to  arrive  at  the 
limit  of  the  plant's  thaumaturgy. 

Let  water,  carbonic  acid,  and  all  the  other  needful 
constituents,  be  supplied  without  ammonia,  and  an  ordi- 
nary plant,  will  still  be  unable  to  manufacture  proto- 
plasm. Thus  the  matter  of  life,  so  far  as  we  know  it 
(and  we  have  no  right  to  speculate  on  any  other)  breaks 
up  in  consequence  of  that  continual  death  which  is  the 
condition  of  its  manifesting  vitality,  into  carbonic  acid, 
water,  and  ammonia,  which  certainly  possess  no  prop- 
erties but  those  of  ordinary  matter ;  and  out  of  these 
same  forms  of  ordinary  matter  and  from  none  which 
are  simpler,  the  vegetable  world  builds  up  all  the  proto- 
plasm which  keeps  the  animal  world  agoing.  Plants  are 
the  accumulators  of  the  power  which  animals  distribute 
and  disperse. 

But  it  will  be  observed,  that  the  existence  of  the  mat- 
ter of  life  depends  on  the  preexistence  of  certain  com- 
pounds, namely,  carbonic  acid,  water,  and  ammonia. 
Withdraw  any  one  of  these  three  from  the  world  and  all 
vital  phenomena  come  to  an  end.  They  are  related  to 
the  protoplasm  of  the  plant,  as  the  protoplasm  of  the 
plant  is  to  that  of  the  animal.  Carbon,  hydrogen,  oxy- 
gen, and  nitrogen  are  all  lifeless  bodies.  Of  these,  car- 
bon and  oxygen,  unite  in  certain  proportions  and  under 
certain  conditions,  to  give  rise  to  carbonic  acid  ;  hydro- 
gen and  oxygen  produce  water  j  nitrogen  and  hydrogen 
give  rise  to  ammonia.  These  new  compounds,  like  the 
elementary  bodies  of  which  they  are  composed,  are  life- 
less. But  when  they  are  brought  together,  under  certain 


conditions  they  give  rise  to  the  still  more  complex  body, 
protoplasm,  and  this  protoplasm  exhibits  the  phenomena 
of  life.  I  see  no  break  in  this  series  of  steps  in  molecu- 
lar complication,  and  I  am  unable  to  understand  why  the 
language  which  is  applicable  to  any  one  term  of  the  se- 
ries may  not  be  used  to  any  of  the  others.  We  think  fit 
to  call  different  kinds  of  matter  carbon,  oxygen,  hydro- 
gen, and  nitrogen,  and  to  speak  of  the  various  powers 
and  activities  of  these  substances  as  the  properties  of 
the  matter  of  which  they  are  composed.  When  hydro- 
gen and  oxygen  are  mixed  in  a  certain  proportion,  and 
the  electric  spark  is  passed  through  them,  they  disappear 
and  a  quantity  of  water,  equal  in  weight  to  the  sum  of 
their  weights,  appears  in  their  place.  There  is  not  the 
slightest  parity  between  the  passive  and  active  powers 
of  the  water  and  those  of  the  oxygen  and  hydrogen 
which  have  given  rise  to  it.  At  32  degrees  Fahrenheit, 
and  far  below  that  temperature,  oxygen  and  hydrogen 
are  elastic  gaseous  bodies,  whose  particles  tend  to  rush 
away  from  one  another  with  great  force.  Water,  at  the 
same  temperature,  is  a  strong  though  brittle  solid,  whose 
particles  tend  to  cohere  into  definite  geometrical  shapes, 
and  sometimes  build  up  frosty  imitations  of  the  most 
complex  forms  of  vegetable  foliage.  Nevertheless  we 
call  these,  and  many  other  strange  phenomena,  the 
properties  of  the  water,  and  we  do  not  hesitate  to  be- 
lieve that,  in  some  way  or  another,  they  result  from  the 
properties  of  the  component  elements  of  the  water.  We 
do  not  assume  that  a  something  called  "aquosity"  en- 
tered into  and  took  possession  of  the  oxide  of  hydrogen 
as  soon  as  it  was  formed,  and  then  guided  the  aqueous 


particles  to  their  places  in  the  facets  of  the  crystal,  or 
amongst  the  leaflets  of  the  hoar-frost.  On  the  contrary, 
we  live  in  the  hope  and  in  the  faith  that,  by  the  advance 
of  molecular  physics,  we  shall  by-and-by  be  able  to  see 
our  way  as  clearly  from  the  constituents  of  water  to  the 
properties  of  water,  as  we  are  now  able  to  deduce  the 
operations  of  a  watch  from  the  form  of  its  parts  and  the 
manner  in  which  they  are  put  together.  Is  the  case  in 
any  way  changed  when  carbonic  acid,  water  and  ammo- 
nia disappear,  and  in  their  place,  under  the  influence  of 
preexisting  living  protoplasm,  an  equivalent  weight  of  the 
matter  of  life  makes  its  appearance  ?  It  is  true  that  there 
is  no  sort  of  parity  between  the  properties  of  the  compo- 
nents and  the  properties  of  the  resultant,  but  neither  was 
there  in  the  case  of  the  water.  It  is  also  true  that  what 
I  have  spoken  of  as  the  influence  of  preexisting  living 
matter  is  something  quite  unintelligible  ;  but  does  any 
body  quite  comprehend  the  modus  operandi  of  an  elec- 
tric spark,  which  traverses  a  mixture  of  oxygen  and  hydro- 
gen ?  What  justification  is  there,  then,  for  the  assump- 
tion of  the  existence  in  the  living  matter  of  a  something 
which  has  no  representative  or  correlative  in  the  not 
living  matter  which  gave  rise  to  it  ?  What  better  philo- 
sophical status  has  "  vitality  "  than  "  aquosity  ?"  And 
why  should  "vitality"  hope  for  a  better  fate  than  the  other 
"itys"  which  have  disappeared  since  Martinus  Scriblerus 
accounted  for  the  operation  of  the  meat-jack  by  its  inhe- 
rent "  meat  roasting  quality,"  and  scorned  the  "material- 
ism "  of  those  who  explained  the  turning  of  the  spit  by 
a  certain  mechanism  worked  by  the  draught  of  the  chim- 
ney ?  If  scientific  language  is  to  possess  a  definite  and 


26 

constant  signification  whenever  it  is  employed,  it  seems 
to  me  that  we  are  logically  bound  to  apply  to  the  proto- 
plasm, or  physical  basis  of  life,  the  same  conceptions  as 
those  which  are  held  to  be  legitimate  elsewhere.  If  the 
phenomena  exhibited  by  water  are  its  properties,  so  are 
those  presented  by  protoplasm,  living  or  dead,  its  prop- 
erties. If  the  properties  of  water  may  be  properly  said 
to  result  from  the  nature  and  disposition  of  its  compo- 
nent molecules,  I  can  find  no  intelligible  ground  for  re- 
fusing to  say  that  the  properties  of  protoplasm  result 
from  the  nature  and  disposition  of  its  molecules.  But  I 
bid  you  beware  that,  in  accepting  these  conclusions,  you 
are  placing  your  feet  on  the  first  rung  of  a  ladder  which, 
inmost  people's  estimation,  is  the  reverse  of  Jacob's, 
and  leads  to  the  antipodes  of  heaven.  It  may  seem  a 
small  thing  to  admit  that  the  dull  vital  actions  of  a  fun- 
gus, or  a  foraminifer,  are  the  properties  of  their  proto- 
plasm, and  are  the  direct  results  of  the  nature  of  the 
matter  of  which  they  are  composed. 
.  But  if,  as  I  have  endeavored  to  prove  to  you,  their 
protoplasm  is  essentially  identical  with,  and  most  read- 
ily converted  into,  that  of  any  animal,  I  can  discover  no 
logical  halting  place  between  the  admission  that  such  is 
the  case,  and  the  further  concession  that  all  vital  action 
may,  with  equal  propriety,  be  said  to  be  the  result  of 
the  molecular  forces  of  the  protoplasm  which  displays 
it.  And  if  so,  it  must  be  true,  in  the  same  sense  and 
to  the  same  extent,  that  the  thoughts  to  which  I  am  now 
giving  utterance,  and  your  thoughts  regarding  them,  are 
the  expression  of  molecular  changes  in  that  matter  of  life 
which  is  the  source  of  our  other  vital  phenomena.  Past 


experience  leads  me  to  be  tolerably  certain  that,  when 
the  propositions  I  have  just  placed  before  you  are  acces- 
sible to  public  comment  and  criticism,  they  will  be  con- 
demned by  many  zealous  persons,  and  perhaps  by  some 
few  of  the  wise  and  thoughtful.  I  should  not  wonder  if 
"gross  and  brutal  materialism"  were  the  mildest  phrase 
applied  to  them  in  certain  quarters.  And  most  un- 
doubtedly the  terms  of  the  propositions  are  distinctly 
materialistic.  Nevertheless,  two  things  are  certain  :  the 
one,  that  I  hold  the  statements  to  be  substantially  true  ; 
the  other,  that  I,  individually,  am  no  materialist,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  believe  materialism  to  involve  grave  philo- 
sophical error. 

This  union  of  materialistic  terminology  with  the  repu- 
diation of  materialistic  philosophy  I  share  with  some  of 
the  most  thoughtful  men  with  whom  I  am  acquainted. 
And,  when  I  first  undertook  to  deliver  the  present  dis- 
course, it  appeared  to  me  to  be  a  fitting  opportunity  to 
explain  how  such  an  union  is  not  only  consistent  with, 
but  necessitated  by  sound  logic.  I  purposed  to  lead  you 
through  the  territory  of  vital  phenomena  to  the  mate- 
rialistic slough  in  which  you  find  yourselves  now  plunged, 
and  then  to  point  out  to  you  the  sole  path  by  which,  in 
my  judgment,  extrication  is  possible.  An  occurrence, 
of  which  I  was  unaware  until  my  arrival  here  last  night, 
renders  this  line  of  argument  singularly  opportune.  I 
found  in  your  papers  the  eloquent  address  "  On  the 
Limits  of  Philosophical  Inquiry,"  which  a  distinguished 
prelate  of  the  English  Church  delivered  before  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Philosophical  Institution  on  the  previous 
day.  My  argKment,  also,  turns  upon  this  very  point  of 


limits  of  philosophical  inquiry ;  and  I  cannot  bring  out 
my  own  views  better  than  by  contrasting  them  with 
those  so  plainly,  and,  in  the  main,  fairly  stated  by  the 
Archbishop  of  York.  But  I  may  be  permitted  to  make 
a  preliminary  comment  upon  an  occurrence  that  greatly 
astonished  me.  Applying  the  name  of  "  the  New  Phil- 
osophy" to  that  estimate  of  the  limits  of  philosophical 
inquiry  which  I,  in  common  with  many  other  men  of  sci- 
ence, hold  to  be  just,  the  Archbishop  opens  his  address 
by  identifying  this  "  new  philosophy"  with  the  positive 
philosophy  of  M.  Comte  (of  whom  he  speaks  as  its  "found- 
er") ;  and  then  proceeds  to  attack  that  philosopher  and 
his  doctrine  vigorously.  Now,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned, 
the  most  Reverend  prelate  might  dialectically  hew  M. 
Comte  in  pieces,  as  a  modern  Agag,  and  I  should  not 
attempt  to  stay  his  hand.  In  so  far  as  my  study  of  what 
specially  characterizes  the  Positive  Philosophy  has  led 
me,  I  find  therein  little  or  nothing  of  any  scientific  value, 
and  a  great  deal  which  is  as  thoroughly  antagonistic  to 
the  very  essence  of  science  as  anything  in  ultramon- 
tane Catholicism.  In  fact,  M.  Comte's  philosophy  in 
practice  might  be  compendiously  described  as  Catholi- 
cism minus  Christianity.  But  what  has  Comptism  to  do 
with  the  "  New  Philosophy,"  as  the  Archbishop  defines 
it  in  the  following  passage  ? 

"  Let  me  briefly  remind  you  of  the  leading  principles 
of  this  new  philosophy. 

"  All  knowledge  is  experience  of  facts  acquired  by  the 
senses.  The  traditions  of  older  philosophies  have  ob- 
scured our  experience  by  mixing  with  it  much  that  the 
senses  cannot  observe,  and  until  these  additions  are  dis- 


29 

carded  our  knowledge  is  impure.  Thus,  metaphysics 
tells  us  that  one  fact  which  we  observe  is  a  cause,  and 
another  is  the  effect  of  that  cause ;  but  upon  a  rigid 
analysis  we  find  that  our  senses  observe  nothing  of  cause 
or  effect  j  they  observe,  first,  that  one  fact  succeeds  an- 
other, and,  after  some  opportunity,  that  this  fact  has 
never  failed  to  follow — that  for  cause  and  effect  we 
should  substitute  invariable  succession.  An  older  phi- 
losophy teaches  us  to  define  an  object  by  distinguishing 
its  essential  from  its  accidental  qualities  ;  but  experience 
knows  nothing  of  essential  and  accidental ;  she  sees 
only  that  certain  marks  attach  to  an  object,  and,  after 
many  observations,  that  some  of  them  attach  invariably, 
whilst  others  may  at  times  be  absent.  ***** 
As  all  knowledge  is  relative,  the  notion  of  anything 
being  necessary  must  be  banished  with  other  traditions." 
There  is  much  here  that  expresses  the  spirit  of  the 
"  New  Philosophy,"  if  by  that  term  be  meant  the  spirit 
of  modern  science ;  but  I  cannot  but  marvel  that  the 
assembled  wisdom  and  learning  of  Edinburg  should  have 
uttered  no  sign  of  dissent,  when  Comte  was  declared  to 
be  the  founder  of  these  doctrines.  No  one  will  accuse 
Scotchmen  of  habitually  forgetting  their  great  country- 
men ;  but  it  was  enough  to  make  David  Hume  turn  in 
his  grave,  that  here,  almost  within  ear-shot  of  his  house, 
an  instructed  audience  should  have  listened,  without  a 
murmur,  while  his  most  characteristic  doctrines  were  at- 
tributed to  a  French  writer  of  fifty  years  later  date,  in 
whose  dreary  and  verbose  pages  we  miss  alike  the  vigor 
of  thought  and  the  exquisite  clearness  of  the  style  of  the 
man  whom  I  make  bold  to  term  the  most  acute  thinker 


3° 

of  the  eighteenth  century — even  though  that  century  pro- 
duced Kant.  But  I  did  not  come  to  Scotland  to  vindi- 
cate the  honor  of  one  of  the  greatest  men  she  has  ever 
produced.  My  business  is  to  point  out  to  you  that  the 
only  way  of  escape  out  of  the  crass  materialism  in  which 
we  just  now  landed  is  the  adoption  and  strict  working 
out  of  the  very  principles  which  the  Archbishop  holds 
up  to  reprobation. 

Let  us  suppose  that  knowledge  is  absolute,  and  not 
relative,  and  therefore;  that  our  conception  of  matter  rep- 
resents that  which  it  really  is.  Let  us  suppose,  further, 
that  we  do  know  more  of  cause  and  effect  than  a  certain 
definite  order  of  succession  among  facts,  and  that  we 
have  a  knowledge  of  the  necessity  of  that  succession — 
and  hence,  of  necessary  laws — and  I,  for  my  part,  do  not 
see  what  escape  there  is  from  utter  materialism  and  nec- 
essitarianism. For  it  is  obvious  that  our  knowledge  of 
what  we  call  the  material  world  is,  to  begin  with,  at  least 
as  certain  and  definite  as  that  of  the  spiritual  world,  and 
that  our  acquaintance  with  the  law  is  of  as  old  a  date  as 
our  knowledge  of  spontaneity. 

Further,  I  take  it  to  be  demonstrable  that  it  is  ut- 
terly impossible  to  prove  that  anything  whatever  may  not 
be  the  effect  of  a  material  and  necessary  cause,  and  that 
human  logic  is  equally  incompetent  to  prove  that  any 
act  is  really  spontaneous.  A  really  spontaneous  act  is 
one  which,  by  the  assumption,  has  no  cause  ;  and  the 
attempt  to  prove  such  a  negative  as  this  is,  on  the  face 
of  the  matter,  absurd.  And  while  it  is  thus  a  philo- 
sophical impossibility  to  demonstrate  that  any  given 
phenomenon  is  not  the  effect  of  a  material  cause,  any 


one  who  is  acquainted  with  the  history  of  science  will 
admit,  that  its  progress  has,  in  all  ages,  meant,  and  now 
more  than  ever  means,  the  extension  of  the  province  of 
what  we  call  matter  and  causation,  and  the  concomitant 
gradual  banishment  from  all  regions  of  human  thought 
of  what  we  call  spirit  and  spontaneity. 

I  have  endeavored,  in  the  first  part  of  this  discourse,  to 
give  you  a  conception  of  the  direction  towards  which  mod- 
ern physiology  is  tending  ;  and  I  ask  you,  what  is  the  dif- 
ference between  the  conception  of  life  as  the  product  of  a 
certain  disposition  of  material  molecules,  and  the  old  no- 
tion of  an  Archaeus  governing  and  directing  blind  mat- 
ter within  each  living  body,  except  this — that  here,  as 
elsewhere,  matter  and  law  have  devoured  spirit  and 
spontaneity  ?  And  as  surely  as  every  future  grows  out 
of  past  and  present,  so  will  the  physiology  of  the  future 
gradually  extend  the  realm  of  matter  and  law  until  it  is 
coextensive  with  knowledge,  with  feeling,  and  with  ac- 
tion. The  consciousnes  of  this  great  truth  weighs  like  a 
nightmare,  I  believe,  upon  many  of  the  best  minds  of 
these  days.  They  watch  what  they  conceive  to  be  the 
progress  of  materialism,  in  such  fear  and  powerless 
anger  as  a  savage  feels,  when,  during  an  eclipse,  the 
great  shadow  creeps  over  the  face  of  the  sun.  The  ad- 
vancing tide  of  matter  threatens  to  drown  their  souls  ; 
the  tightening  grasp  of  law  impedes  their  freedom  ;  they 
are  alarmed  lest  man's  moral  nature  be  debased  by  the 
increase  of  his  wisdom. 

If  the  "  New  Philosophy"  be  worthy  of  the  reproba- 
tion with  which  it  is  visited,  I  confess  their  fears  seem  to 
me  to  be  well  founded.  While,  on  the  contrary,  could 


3* 

David  Hume  be  consulted,  I  think  he  would  smile  at  their 
perplexities,  and  chide  them  for  doing  even  as  the  heath- 
en, and  falling  down  in  terror  before  the  hideous  idols  their 
own  hands  have  raised.  For,  after  all,  what  do  we  know 
of  this  terrible  "  matter,"  except  as  a  name  for  the  un- 
known and  hypothetical  cause  of  states  of  our  own  con- 
sciousness ?  And  what  do  we  know  of  that  "spirit" 
over  whose  threatened  extinction  by  matter  a  great  la- 
mentation is  arising,  like  that  which  was  heard  at  the  death 
of  Pan,  except  that  it  is  also  a  name  for  an  unknown 
and  hypothetical  cause,  or  condition,  of  states  of  con- 
sciousness ?  In  other  words,  matter  and  spirit  are  but 
names  for  the  imaginary  substrata  of  groups  of  natural 
phenomena.  And  what  is  the  dire  necessity  and  "  iron" 
law  under  which  men  groan  ?  Truly,  most  gratuitously 
invented  bugbears.  I  suppose  if  there  be  an  "  iron"  law, 
it  is  that  of  gravitation  ;  and  if  there  be  a  physical  ne- 
cessity, it  is  that  a  stone,  unsupported,  must  fall  to  the 
ground.  But  what  is  all  we  really  know  and  can  know 
about  the  latter  phenomenon  ?  Simply,  that,  in  all  human 
experience,  stones  have  fallen  to  the  ground  under  these 
conditions  ;  that  we  have  not  the  smallest  reason  for  be- 
lieving that  any  stone  so  circumstanced  will  not  fall  to 
the  ground,  and  that  we  have,  on  the  contrary,  every 
reason  to  believe  that  it  will  so  fall.  It  is  very  conven- 
ient to  indicate  that  all  the  conditions  of  belief  have 
been  fulfilled  in  this  case,  by  calling  the  statement  that 
unsupported  stones  will  fall  to  the  ground,  "  a  law  of  na- 
ture." But  when,  as  commonly  happens,  we  change  will 
into  must,  we  introduce  an  idea  of  necessity  which  most 
assuredly  does  not  lie  in  the  observed  facts,  and  has  no 


33 

warranty  that  I  can  discover  elsewhere.  For  my  part,  I 
utterly  repudiate  and  anathematize  the  intruder.  Fact, 
I  know ;  and  Law  I  know  ;  but  what  is  this  Necessity, 
save  an  empty  shadow  of  my  own  mind's  throwing? 
But,  if  it  is  certain  that  we  can  have  no  knowledge  of 
the  nature  of  either  matter  or  spirit,  and  that  the  notion 
of  necessity  is  something  illegitimately  thrust  into  the 
perfectly  legitimate  conception  of  law,  the  materialistic 
position  that  there  is  nothing  in  the  world  but  matter, 
force,  and  necessity,  is  as  utterly  devoid  of  justification 
as  the  most  baseless  of  theological  dogmas. 

The  fundamental  doctrines  of  materialism,  like  those 
of  spiritualism,  and  most  other  "  isms,"  lie  outside  "  the 
limits  of  philosophical  inquiry,"  and  David  Hume's  great 
service  to  humanity  is  his  irrefragable  demonstration  of 
what  these  limits  are.  Hume  called  himself  a  sceptic, 
and  therefore  others  cannot  be  blamed  if  they  apply  the 
the  same  title  to  him  ;  but  that  does  not  alter  the  fact 
that  the  name,  with  its  existing  implications,  does  him 
gross  injustice.  If  a  man  asks  me  what  the  politics  of 
the  inhabitants  of  the  moon  are,  and  I  reply  that  I  do 
not  know  ;  that  ^neither  I,  nor  any  one  else  have  any 
means  of  knowing;  and  that,  under  these  circumstances 
I  decline  to  trouble  myself  about  the  subject  at  all,  I  do 
not  think  he  has  any  right  to  call  me  a  sceptic.  On 
the  contrary,  in  replying  thus,  I  conceive  that  I  am  sim- 
ply honest  and  truthful,  and  show  a*  proper  regard  for 
the  economy  of  time.  So  Hume's  strong  and  subtle  in- 
tellect takes  up  a  great  many  problems  about  which  we 
are  naturally  curious,  and  shows  us  that  they  are  essen- 
tially questions  of  lunar  politics,  in  their  essence  inca.- 


34 

pable  of  being  answered,  and  therefore  not  worth  the 
attention  of  men  who  have  work  to  do  in  the  world. 
And  thus  ends  one  of  his  essays  : 

"  If  we  take  in  hand  any  volume  of  Divinity,  or  school 
•metaphysics,  for  instance,  let  us  ask,  Does  it  contain  any 
abstract  reasoning  concerning  quantity  or  number  ?  No. 
Does  it  contain  any  experimental  reasoning  concerning  mat- 
ter of  fact  and  existence  ?  No.  Commit  it  then  to  the 
flames  ;  for  it  can  contain  nothing  but  sophistry  and  illu- 


sion." 


Permit  me  to  enforce  this  most  wise  advice.  Why 
trouble  ourselves  about  matters  of  which,  however  im- 
portant they  may  be,  we  do  know  nothing,  and  can  know 
nothing  ?  We  live  in  a  world  which  is  full  of  misery  and 
ignorance,  and  the  plain  duty  of  each  and  all  of  us  is  to 
try  to  make  the  little  corner  he  can  influence  somewhat 
less  miserable  and  somewhat  less  ignorant  than  it  was 
before  he  entered  it.  To  do  this  effectually  it  is  necessary 
to  be  fully  possessed  of  only  two  beliefs  :  the  first,  that 
the  order  of  nature  is  ascertainable  by  our  faculties  to 
an  extent  which  is  practically  unlimited ;  the  second, 
that  our  volition  counts  for  something  as  a  condition  of 
the  course  of  events.  Each  of  these  beliefs  can  be  ver- 
ified experimentally,  as  often  as  we  like  to  try.  Each, 
therefore,  stands  upon  the  strongest  foundation  upon 
which  any  belief  can  rest ;  and  forms  one  of  our  highest 
truths. 

If  we  find  that  the  ascertainment  of  the  order  of  nature 
is  facilitated  by  using  one  terminology,  or  one  set  of  sym- 
bols, rather  than  another,  it  is  our  clear  duty  to  use  the 
former,  and  no  harm  can  accrue  so  long  as  we  bear  in 
mind  that  we  are  dealing  merely  with  terms  and  symbols. 


35 

In  itself  it  is  of  little  momant  whether  we  express  the 
phenomena  of  matter  in  terms  of  spirit,  or  the  phenomena 
of  spirit  in  terms  of  matter  ;  matter  may  be  regarded  as 
a  form  of  thought,  thought  may  be  regarded  as  a  property 
of  matter — each  statement  has  a  certain  relative  truth. 
But  with  a  view  to  the  progress  of  science,  the  material- 
istic terminology  is  in  every  way  to  be  preferred.  For  it 
connects  thought  with  the  other  phenomena  of  the  uni- 
verse, and  suggests  inquiry  into  the  nature  of  those  physi- 
ical  conditions  or  concomitants  of  thought,  which  are 
more  or  less  accessible  to  us,  and  a  knowledge  of  which 
may,  in  future,  help  us  to  exercise  the  same  kind  of  con- 
trol over  the  world  of  thought  as  we  already  possess  in 
respect  of  the  material  world  ;  whereas,  the  alternative, 
or  spiritualistic,  terminology  is  utterly  barren,  and  leads 
to  nothing  but  obscurity  and  confusion  of  ideas.  Thus 
there  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  further  science  ad- 
vances, the  more  extensively  and  consistently  will  all  the 
phenomena  of  nature  be  represented  by  materialistic 
formulae  and  symbols.  But  the  man  of  science,  who, 
forgetting  the  limits  of  philosophical  inquiry,  slides  from 
these  formulae  and  symbols  into  what  is  commonly  un- 
derstood by  materialism,  seems  to  me  to  place  himself 
on  a  level  with  the  mathematician,  who  should  mistake 
the  x's  and  fs,  with  which  he  works  his  problems,  for 
real  entities — and  with  this  further  disadvantage  as  com- 
pared with  the  mathematician,  that  the  blunders  of  the 
latter  are  of  no  practical  consequence,  while  the  errors 
of  systematic  materialism  may  paralyze  the  energies  ancj 
destroy  the  beauty  of  a  life, 


THE  CORRELATION  OF  VITAL  AND 
PHYSICAL  FORCES. 


THE  CORRELATION 

OF 

VITAL  AND   PHYSICAL    FORCES. 


In  the  Syracusan  Poecile,  says  Alexander  von  Hum- 
boldt  in  his  beautiful  little  allegory  of  the  Rhodian 
Genius,  hung  a  painting,  which,  for  full  a  century,  had 
continued  to  attract  the  attention  of  every  visitor.  In 
the  foreground  of  this  picture  a  numerous  company  of 
youths  and  maidens  of  earthly  and  sensuous  appearance 
gazed  fixedly  upon  a  haloed  Genius  who  hovered  in 
their  midst.  A  butterfly  rested  upon  his  shoulder,  and 
he  held  in  his  hand  a  flaming  torch.  His  every  lineament 
bespoke  a  celestial  origin.  The  attempts  to  solve  the 
enigma  of  this  painting — whose  origin  even  was  unknown 
— though  numerous,  were  all  in  vain,  when  one  day  a 
ship  arriving  from  Rhodes,  laden  with  works  of  art, 
brought  another  picture,  at  once  recognized  as  its  com- 
panion. As  before,  the  Genius  stood  in  the  center,  but 
the  butterfly  had  disappeared,  and  the  torch  was  reversed 
and  extinguished.  The  youths  and  maidens  were  no 
longer  sad  and  submissive,  their  mutual  embraces  an- 
nouncing their  entire  emancipation  from  restraint.  Still 


4°  (4) 

unable  to  solve  the  riddle,  Dionysius  sent  the  pictures  to 
the  Pythagorean  sage,  Epicharmus.  After  gazing  upon 
them  long  and  earnestly,  he  said  :  Sixty  years  long  have 
I  pondered  on  the  internal  springs  of  nature,  and  on 
the  differences  inherent  in  matter  \  but  it  is  only  this 
day  that  the  Rhodian  Genius  has  taught  me  to  see 
clearly  that  which  before  I  had  only  conjectured.  In 
inanimate  nature,  everything  seeks  its  like.  Everything, 
as  soon  as  formed,  hastens  to  enter  into  new  combina- 
tions, and  nought  save  the  disjoining  art  of  man  can 
present  in  a  separate  state  ingredients  which  ye  would 
vainly  seek  in  the  interior  of  the  earth  or  in  the  moving 
oceans  of  air  and  water.  Different,  however,  is  the 
blending  of  the  same  substances  in  animal  and  vegetable 
bodies.  Here  vital  force  imperatively  asserts  its  rights, 
and  heedless  of  the  affinity  and  antagonism  of  the  atoms, 
unites  substances  which  in  inanimate  nature  ever  flee 
from  each  other,  and  separates  that  which  is  incessantly 
striving  to  unite.  Recognize,  therefore,  in  the  Rhodian 
Genius,  in  the  expression  of  his  youthful  vigor,  in  the 
butterfly  on  his  shoulder,  in  the  commanding  glance  of 
his  eye,  the  symbol  of  vital  force  as  it  animates  every 
germ  of  organic  creation.  The  earthly  elements  at  his 
feet  are  striving  to  gratify  their  own  desires  and  to 
mingle  with  one  another.  Imperiously  the  Genius 
threatens  them  with  upraised  and  high-flaming  torch, 
and  compels  them  regardless  of  their  ancient  rights,  to 
obey  his  laws.  Look  now  on  the  new  work  of  art ; 
turn  from  life  to  death.  The  butterfly  has  soared  up- 
ward, the  extinguished  torch  is  reversed,  and  the  head 
of  the  youth  is  drooping ;  the  spirit  has  fled  to  other 
spheres,  and  the  vital  force  is  extinct.  Now  the  youths 


(5)  4i 

and  maidens  join  their  hands  in  joyous  accord.  Earthly 
matter  again  resumes  its  rights.  Released  from  all 
bonds,  they  impetuously  follow  their  natural  instincts, 
and  the  day  of  his  death  is  to  them  a  day  of  nuptials.1 

The  view  here  put  by  Humboldt  into  the  mouth  of 
Epicharmus  may  be  taken  as  a  fair  representation  of  the 
current  opinion  of  all  ages  concerning  vital  force.  To- 
day, as  truly  as  seventy-five  years  ago  when  Humboldt 
wrote,  the  mysterious  and  awful  phenomena  of  life  are 
commonly  attributed  to  some  controlling  agent  residing 
in  the  organism — to  some  independent  presiding  deity, 
holding  it  in  absolute  subjection.  Such  a  notion  it  was 
which  prompted  Heraclitus  to  talk  of  a  universal  fire, 
Van  Helmont  to  propose  his  Archaeus,  Hofmann  his 
vital  fluid,  Hunter  his  materia  vitcz  diffusa>  and  Hum- 
boldt his  vital  force.2  All  these  names  assume  the  exist- 
ence of  a  material  or  immaterial  something,  more  or 
less  separable  from  the  material  body,  and  more  or  less 
identical  with  the  mind  or  soul,  which  is  the  cause  of 
the  phenomena  of  living  beings.  But  as  science  moved 
irresistibly  onward,  and  it  became  evident  that  the  forces 
of  inorganic  nature  were  neither  deities  nor  imponder- 
able fluids,  separable  from  matter,  but  were  simple  af- 
fections of  it,  analogy  demanded  a  like  concession  in 
behalf  of  vital  force. 3  From  the  notion  that  the  effects 
of  heat  were  due  to  an  imponderable  fluid  called  caloric, 
discovery  passed  to  the  conviction  that  heat  was  but  a 
motion  of  material  particles,  and  hence  inseparable 
from  matter.  To  a  like  assumption  concerning  vitality 
it  was  now  but  a  step.  The  more  advanced  thinkers  in 
science  of  to-day,  therefore,  look  upon  the  life  of  the 
living  form  as  inseparable  from  its  substance,  and  be- 


42  (6) 

lieve  that  the  former  is  purely  phenomenal,  and  only  a 
manifestation  of  the  latter.  Denying  the  existence  of  a 
special  vital  force  as  such,  they  retain  the  term  only  to 
express  the  sum  of  the  phenomena  of  living  beings. 

In  calling  your  attention  this  evening  to  the  Correla- 
tion of  the  Physical  and  the  Vital  Forces,  I  have  a  two- 
fold object  in  view.  On  the  one  hand,  I  would  seek  to 
interest  you  in  a  comparatively  recent  discovery  of  Sci- 
ence, and  one  which  is  destined  to  play  a  most  import- 
ant part  in  promoting  man's  welfare  ;  and  on  the  other 
I  would  inquire  what  part  our  own  country  has  had  in 
these  discoveries. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  let  us  consider  what  the  evi- 
dences are  that  vital  and  physical  forces  are  correlated. 
Let  us  inquire  how  far  inorganic  and  organic  forces  may 
be  considered  mutually  convertible,  and  hence,  in  so 
far,  mutually  identical.  This  may  best  be  done  by  con- 
sidering, first,  what  is  to  be  understood  by  correlation  •: 
and  second,  how  far  are  the  physical  forces  themselves 
correlated  to  each  other. 

At  the  outset  of  our  discussion,  we  are  met  by  an  un- 
fortunate ambiguity  of  language.  The  word  Force,  as 
commonly  used,  has  three  distinct  meanings  ;  in  the 
first  place,  it  is  used  to  express  the  cause  of  motion,  as 
when  we  speak  of  the  force  of  gunpowder ;  it  is  also 
used  to  indicate  motion  itself,  as  when  we  refer  to  the 
force  of  a  moving  cannon-ball ;  and  lastly  it  is  employed 
to  express  the  effect  of  motion,  as  when  we  speak  of  the 
blow  which  the  moving  body  gives.4  Because  of  this  con- 
fusion, it  has  been  found  convenient  to  adopt  Rankine's 
suggestion,*  and  to  substitute  the  word  '  energy'  therefor 
And  precisely  as  all  force  upon  the  earth's  surface—- 


(7) 


43 


using  the  term  force  in  its  widest  sense — may  be  divided 
into  attraction  and  motion,  so  all  energy  is  divided  into 
potential  and  actual  energy,  synonymous  with  those 
terms.  It  is  the  chemical  attraction  of  the  atoms,  or 
their  potential  energy,  which  makes  gunpowder  so  pow- 
erful ;  it  is  the  attraction  or  potential  energy  of  gravita- 
tion which  gives  the  power  to  a  raised  weight.  If  now, 
the  impediments  be  removed,  the  power  just  now  latent 
becomes  active,  attraction  is  converted  into  motion, 
potential  into  actual  energy,  and  the  desired  effect  is 
accomplished.  The  energy  of  gunpowder  or  of  a  raised 
weight  is  potential,  is  capable  of  acting  ;  that  of  explod- 
ing gunpowder  or  of  a  falling  weight  is  actual  energy 
or  motion.  By  applying  a  match  to  the  gunpowder,  by 
cutting  the  string  which  sustains  the  weight,  we  convert 
potential  into  actual  energy.  By  potential  energy,  there- 
fore, is  meant  attraction  ;  and  by  actual  energy,  motion. 
It  is  in  the  latter  sense  that  we  shall  use  the  word  force 
in  this  lecture  ;  and  we  shall  speak  of  the  forces  of 
heat,  light,  electricity  and  mechanical  motion,  and  of 
the  attractions  of  gravitation,  cohesion,  chemism. 

From  what  has  now  been  said,  it  is  obvious  that  when 
we  speak  of  the  forces  of  heat,  light,  electricity  or  mo- 
tion, we  mean  simply  the  different  modes  of  motion 
called  by  these  names.  And  when  we  say  that  they 
are  correlated  to  each  other,  we  mean  simply  that  the 
mode  of  motion  called  heat,  light,  electricity,  is  convert- 
ible into  any  of  the  others,  at  pleasure.  Correlation 
therefore  implies  convertibility,  and  mutual  dependence 
and  relationship. 

Having  now  defined  the  use  of  the  term  force,  and 
shown  that  forces  are  correlated  which  are  convertible 


44  (8) 

and  mutually  dependent,  we  go  on  to  study  the  evidences 
of  such  correlation  among  the  motions  of  inorganic  na- 
ture usually  called  physical  forces  ;  and  to  ask  what 
proof  science  can  furnish  us  that  mechanical  motion, 
heat,  light,  and  electricity  are  thus  mutually  convertible. 
As  we  have  already  hinted,  the  time  was  when  these 
forces  were  believed  to  be  various  kinds  of  imponder- 
able matter,  and  chemists  and  physicists  talked  of  the 
union  of  iron  with  caloric  as  they  talked  of  its  union 
with  sulphur,  regarding  the  caloric  as  much  a  distinct 
and  inconvertible  entity  as  the  iron  and  sulphur  them- 
selves. Gradually,  however,  the  idea  of  4he  indestruct- 
ibility of  matter  extended  itself  to  force.  And  as  it 
was  believed  that  no  material  particle  could  ever  be 
lost,  so,  it  was  argued,  no  portion  of  the  force  existing 
in  nature  can  disappear.  Hence  arose  the  idea  of  the 
indestructibility  of  force.  But,  of  course,  it  was  quite 
impossible  to  stop  here.  If  force  cannot  be  lost,  the 
question  at  once  arises,  what  becomes  of  it  when  it 
passes  beyond  our  recognition  ?  This  question  led  to 
experiment,  and  out  of  experiment  came  the  great  fact 
of  force-correlation  ;  a  fact  which  distinguished  authority 
has  pronounced  the  most  important  discovery  of  the 
present  century.6  These  experiments  distinctly  proved 
that  when  any  one  of  these  forces  disappeared,  another 
took  its  place  ;  that  when  motion  was  arrested,  for  ex- 
ample, heat,  light  or  electricity  was  developed.  In  short, 
that  these  forces  were  so  intimately  related  or  correlated 
— to  use  the  word  then  proposed  by  Mr.  Grove  7 — that 
when  one  of  them  vanished,  it  did  so  only  to  reappear 
in  terms  of  another.  But  one  step  more  was  necessary 
to  complete  this  magnificent  theory.  What  can  produce 


(9)  45 

motion  but  motion  itself?  Into  what  can  motion  be  con- 
verted, but  motion  ?  May  not  these  forces,  thus  mutu- 
ally convertible,  be  simply  different  modes  of  motion  of 
the  molecules  of  matter,  precisely  as  mechanical  motion 
is  a  motion  of  its  mass  ?  Thus  was  born  the  dynamic 
theory  of  force,  first  brought  out  in  any  completeness  by 
Mr.  Grove,  in  1842,  in  a  lecture  on  the  "  Progress  of 
Physical  Science,"  delivered  at  the  London  Institution. 
In  that  lecture  he  said  :  "  Light,  heat,  electricity,  mag- 
netism, motion,  are  all  convertible  material  affections. 
Assuming  either  as  the  cause,  one  of  the  others  will  be 
the  effect.  Thus  heat  may  be  said  to  produce  electricity, 
electricity  to  produce  heat ;  magnetism  to  produce  elec- 
tricity, electricity  magnetism  ;  and  so  of  the  rest."  8 

A  few  simple  experiments  will  help  us  to  fix  in  our 
minds  the  great  fact  of  the  convertibility  of  force. 
Starting  with  actual  visible  motion,  correlation  requires 
that  when  it  disappears  as  motion,  it  should  reappear  as 
heat,  light,  or  electricity.  If  the  moving  body  be  elastic 
like  this  rubber  ball,  then  its  motion  is  not  destroyed 
when  it  strikes,  but  is  only  changed  in  direction.  But 
if  it  be  non-elastic,  like  this  ball  of  lead,  then  it  does 
not  rebound  ;  its  motion  is  converted  into  heat.  The 
motion  of  this  sledge-hammer,  for  example,  which  if  re- 
ceived upon  this  anvil  would  be  simply  changed  in 
direction,  if  allowed  to  fall  upon  this  bar  of  lead,  is 
converted  into  heat ;  the  evidence  of  which  is  that  a 
piece  of  phosphorus  placed  upon  the  lead  is  at  once  in- 
flamed. So  too,  if  motion  be  arrested  by  the  cushion 
of  air  in  this  cylinder,  the  heat  evolved  fires  the  tinder 
carried  in  the  plunger.  But  it  is  not  necessary  that  the 
arrest  of  motion  should  be  sudden  ;  it  may  be  gradual, 


46  (io) 

as  in  the  case  of  friction.  If  this  cylinder  containing 
water  or  alcohol  be  caused  to  revolve  rapidly  between 
the  two  sides  of  this  wooden  rubber,  the  heat  due  to  the 
arrested  motion  will  raise  the  temperature  of  the  liquid 
to  the  boiling  point,  and  the  cork  will  be  expelled.  But 
motion  may  also  be  converted  into  electricity.  Indeed 
electricity  is  always  the  result  of  friction  between  hete- 
rogeneous particles. 9  When  this  piece  of  hard  rubber, 
for  example,  is  rubbed  with  the  fur  of  a  cat,  it  is  at  once 
electrified  ;  and  now  if  it  be  caused  to  communicate  a 
portion  of  its  charge  to  this  glass  plate,  to  which  at  the 
same  time  we  add  the  mechanical  motion  of  rotation, 
the  strong  sparks  produced  give  evidence  of  the  con- 
version. 

So,  too,  taking  heat  as  the  initial  force,  motion,  light, 
electricity  may  be  produced.  In  every  steam-engine 
the  steam  which  leaves  the  cylinder  is  cooler  than  that 
which  entered  it,  and  cooler  by  exactly  the  amount  of 
work  done.  The  motion  of  the  piston's  mass  is  pre- 
cisely that  lost  by  the  steam  molecules  which  batter 
against  it.  The  conversion  of  heat  into  electricity,  too, 
is  also  easily  effected.  When  the  junction  of  two  met- 
als is  heated,  electricity  is  developed.  If  the  two  metals 
be  bismuth  and  antimony,  as  represented  in  this  dia- 
gram, the  currents  flow  as  indicated  by  the  arrows  ;  and 
by  multiplying  the  number  of  pairs,  the  effect  may  be 
proportionately  increased.  Such  an  arrangement,  called 
a  thermo-electric  battery,  we  have  here  ;  and  by  it,  the 
heat  of  a  single  gas-burner  may  be  made  to  move,  when 
converted,  this  little  electric  bell-engine.  Moreover, 
heat  and  light  have  the  very  closest  analogy ;  exalt  the 
rapidity  with  which  the  molecules  move  and  light  ap- 
pears, the  difference  being  only  one  of  intensity. 


(")  47 

Again,  if  electricity  be  our  starting  point,  we  may  ac- 
complish its  conversion  into  the  other  forces.  Heat 
results  whenever  its  passage  is  interrupted  or  resisted  ; 
a  wire  of  the  poorly  conducting  metal  platinum  becom- 
ing even  red  hot  by  the  converted  electricity.  To  pro- 
duce light,  of  course,  we  need  only  to  intensify  this 
action ;  the  brightest  artificial  light  known,  results  from 
a  direct  conversion  of  electricity. 

Enough  has  now  been  said  to  establish  our  point. 
What  is  to  be  particularly  observed  of  these  pieces 
of  apparatus  is  that  they  are  machines  especially  de- 
signed for  th6  conversion  of  some  one  force  into  an- 
other. And  we  expect  of  them  only  that  conversion. 
We  pass  on  to  consider  for  a  moment  the  quantita- 
tive relations  of  this  mutual  convertibility.  We  no- 
tice, in  the  first  place,  that  in  all  cases  save  one,  the 
conversion  is  not  perfect,  a  part  of  the  force  used  not 
being  utilized,  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other, 
other  forces  making  their  appearance  simultaneously. 
While,  for  example,  the  conversion  of  motion  into  heat 
is  quite  complete,  the  inverse  conversion  is  not  at  all  so. 
And  on  the  other  hand,  when  motion  is  converted  into 
electricity,  a  part  of  it  appears  as  heat.  This  simulta- 
neous production  of  many  forces  is  well  illustrated  by 
our  little  bell-engine,  which  converts  the  electricity  of 
the  thermo-battery  into  magnetism,  and  this  into  motion, 
a  part  of  which  expends  itself  as  sound.  For  these 
reasons  the  question  "  How  much  ?"  is  one  not  easily 
answered  in  all  cases.  The  best  known  of  these  rela- 
tions is  that  between  motion  and  heat,  which  was  first 
established  by  Mr.  Joule  in  1849,  after  seven  years  of 
patient  investigation.10  The  apparatus  which  he  used  is 


12 


shown  in  the  diagram.  It  consists  of  a  cylindrical  bo* 
of  metal,  through  the  cover  of  which  passes  a  shaft, 
carrying  upon  its  lower  end  a  set  of  paddles,  immersed 
in  water  within  the  box,  and  upon  its  upper  portion  a 
drum,  on  which  arc  wound  two  cords,  which,  passing  in 
opposite  directions,  run  over  pulleys,  and  are  attached 
to  known  weights.  The  temperature  of  the  water  with- 
in the  box  being  carefully  noted,  the  weights  are  then 
allowed  to  fall  a  certain  number  of  times,  of  course  in 
their  fall  turning  the  paddles  against  the  friction  of  the 
liquid.  At  the  close  of  the  experiment  the  water  is 
found  to  be  warmer  than  before.  And  by  measuring 
the  amount  of  this  rise  in  temperature,  knowing  the  dis- 
tance through  which  the  weights  have  fallen,  it  is  easy 
to  calculate  the  quantity  of  heat  which  corresponds  to  a 
given  amount  of  motion.  In  this  way,  and  as  a  mean 
of  a  large  number  of  experiments,  Mr.  Joule  found  that 
the  amount  of  mass  motion  in  a  body  weighing  one 
pound,  which  had  fallen  from  a  hight  of  772  feet,  was 
exactly  equal  to  the  molecular  motion  which  must  be 
added  to  a  pound  of  water,  in  order  to  heat  it  one  de- 
gree Fahrenheit.  If  we  call  the  actual  energy  of  a 
body  weighing  one  pound  which  has  fallen  one  foot,  a 
foot-pound,  then  we  may  speak  of  the  mechanical  equiv- 
alent of  heat  as  being  772  foot-pounds. 

The  significance  and  value  of  this  numerical  constant 
will  appear  more  clearly  if  we  apply  it  to  the  solution  of 
one  or  two  simple  problems.  During  the  recent  war  two 
immense  iron  guns  were  cast  in  Pittsburgh,  whose  weight 
was  nearly  112,000  pounds  each,  and  which  had  a  caliber 
of  20  inches."  Upon  this  diagram  is  a  calculation  of  the 
effective  blow  which  the  solid  shot  of  such  a  gun,  assum- 


(  '3  )  49 

ing  its  weight  to  be  1,000  pounds  and  its  velocity  1,100 
feet  per  second,  would  give  ;  it  is  902,797  tons  !12  Now, 
if  it  were  possible  to  convert  the  whole  of  this  enormous 
mechanical  power  into  heat,  to  how  much  would  it  cor- 
respond ?  This  question  may  be  answered  by  the  aid 
of  the  mechanical  equivalent  of  heat ;  here  is  the  cal- 
culation, from  which  we  see  that  when  17  gallons  of 
ice-cold  water  are  heated  to  the  boiling  point,  as  much 
energy  is  communicated  as  is  contained  in  the  death- 
dealing  missile  at  its  highest  velocity.13  Again,  if  we  take 
the  impact  of  a  larger  cannon-ball,  our  earth,  which  is 
whirling  through  space  with  a  velocity  of  19  miles  a 
second,  we  find  it  to  be  98,416,136,000,000,000,000,000,- 
000,000,000  tons  I1*  Were  this  energy  all  converted  into 
heat,  it  would  equal  that  produced  by  the  combustion 
of  14  earths  of  solid  coal.1* 

The  conversion  of  heat  into  motion,  however,  as  al- 
ready stated,  is  not  as  perfect.  The  best  steam-engines 
economize  only  one-twentieth  of  the  heat  of  the  fuel.16 
Hence  if  a  steamship  require  600  tons  of  coal  to  carry 
her  across  the  Atlantic,  570  tons  will  be  expended  in 
heating  the  waters  of  the  ocean,  the  heat  of  the  remain- 
ing 30  tons  only  being  converted  into  work. 

One  other  quantitative  determination  of  force  has 
also  been  made.  Prof.  Julius  Thomsen,  of  Copenhagen, 
has  fixed  experimentally  the  mechanical  equivalent  of 
light.1?  He  finds  that  the  energy  of  the  light  of  a  sper- 
maceti candle  burning  126)4  grains  per  hour,  is  equal 
in  mechanical  value  to  13*1  foot-pounds  per  minute. 
The  same  conclusion  has  been  reached  by  Mr.  Farmer, 
of  Boston,  from  different  data.18 

If  we  pass  from  the^  actual  physical  energies  or  mo- 


go  (M) 

tions  to  consider  for  a  moment  the  potential  energies  or 
attractions,  we  find,  also,  an  intimate  correlation.  Since 
all  energy  not  active  in  motion  is  potential  in  attraction, 
it  follows  that  in  the  attractions  we  have  energy  stored 
up  for  subsequent  use.  The  sun  is  thus  storing  up 
energy  :  every  minute  it  raises  2,000,000,000  tons  of 
water  to  the  mean  hight  of  the  clouds,  3^2  miles ;  and 
the  actual  energy  set  free  when  this  water  falls  is  equal 
to  2,757,000,000,000  horse  powers. Z9  So  when  the  oxy- 
gen and  the  zinc  of  the  ore  are  separated  in  the  furnace, 
the  actual  energy  of  heat  becomes  the  potential  energy  of 
chemical  attraction,  which  again  becomes  actual  in  the 
form  of  electricity  when  the  zinc  is  dissolved  in  an  acid. 
We  see,  then,  that  not  only  may  any  form  of  force  or 
actual  energy  be  stored  up  as  any  form  of  attraction  or 
potential  energy,  but  that  the  latter,  from  whatsoever 
source  derived,  may  appear  as  heat,  light,  electricity,  or 
mechanical  motion. 

Having  now  established  the  fact  of  correlation  for 
the  physical  forces,  we  have  next  to  inquire  what  are 
the  evidences  of  the  correlation  of  the  vital  forces  with 
them.  But  in  the  first  place  it  must  be  remarked  that 
life  is  not  a  simple  term  like  heat  or  electricity  ;  it  is 
a  complex  term,  and  includes  all  those  phenomena 
which  a  living  body  exhibits.  In  this  discussion,  there- 
fore, we  shall  use  the  term  vital  force  to  express  only 
the  actual  energy  of  the  body,  however  manifested.  As 
to  the  attractions  or  the  potential  energy  of  the  organ- 
ism, nothing  is  more  fully  settled  in  science  than  the 
fact  that  these  are  precisely  the  same  within  the  body 
as  without  it.  Every  particle  of  matter  within  the  body 
obeys  implicitly  the  laws  of  the  chemical  and  physical 


OS)  St 

attractions.  No  overpowering  or  supernatural  agency 
comes  in  to  complicate  their  action,  which  is  modified 
only  by  the  action  of  the  others.  Vitality,  therefore,  is 
the  sum  of  the  energies  of  a  living  body,  both  potential 
and  actual. 

Moreover,  the  important  fact  must  be  fully  recognized 
that  in  living  beings  we  have  to  do  with  no  new  elemen- 
tary forms  of  matter.  Precisely  the  same  atoms  which 
build  up  the  inorganic  fabric,  compose  the  organic.  In 
the  early  days  of  chemistry,  indeed,  it  was  supposed 
that  the  complicated  molecules  which  life  produced 
were  beyond  the  reach  of  simple  chemical  law.  But  as 
more  and  more  complex  molecules  have  been,  one  after 
another,  produced,  chemistry  has  become  re-assured,  and 
now  doubts  not  her  ability  to  produce  them  all.  A  few 
years  hence,  and  she  will  doubtless  give  us  quinine  and 
protagon,  as  she  now  gives  us  coumarin  and  neurine, 
substances  the  synthesis  of  which  was  but  yesterday  an 
impossibility.20 

In  studying  the  phenomena  of  living  beings,  it  is  im- 
portant also  to  bear  in  mind  the  different  and  at  the 
same  time  the  coordinate  purposes  subserved  by  the 
two  great  kingdoms  of  nature.  The  food  of  the  plant 
is  matter  whose  energy  is  all  expended  ;  it  is  a  fallen 
weight.  But  the  plant-organism  receives  it,  exposes  it 
to  the  sun's  ray,  and,  in  a  way  yet  mysterious  to  us,  con- 
verts the  actual  energy  of  the  sunlight  into  potential  en- 
ergy within  it.  The  fallen  weight  is  thus  raised,  and 
energy  is  stored  up  in  substances  which  now  are  alone 
competent  to  become  the  food  of  the  animal.  This  food 
is  not  such  because  any  new  atoms  have  been  added  to 
it  ;  it  is  food  because  it  contains  within  it  potential  en- 


S2  (16) 

ergy,  which  at  any  time  may  become  actual  as  force. 
This  food  the  animal  now  appropriates  ;  he  brings  it  in 
contact  with  oxygen,  and  the  potential  energy  becomes 
actual  ;  he  cuts  the  string,  the  weight  falls,  and  what  was 
just  now  only  attraction,  has  become  actual  force  ;  this 
force  he  uses  for  his  own  purposes,  and  hands  back  the 
oxidized  matter,  the  fallen  weight,  to  the  plant  to  be 
again  de-oxidized,  to  be  again  raised.  The  plant  then 
is  to  regarded  as  a  machine  for  converting  sunlight  into 
potential  energy  ;  the  animal,  a  machine  for  setting  the 
potential  energy  free  as  actual,  and  economizing  it.  The 
force  which  the  plant  stores  up  is  undeniably  physical ; 
must  not  the  force  which  the  animal  sets  free  by  its  con- 
version, be  intimately  correlated  to  it  ? 

But  approaching  our  question  still  more  closely,  let 
us,  in  illustration  of  the  vital  forces  of  the  animal  econ- 
omy, choose  three  forms  of  its  manifestation  in  which 
to  seek  for  the  evidences  of  correlation  ;  these  shall  be 
heat,  evolved  within  the  body  ;  muscular  energy  or  mo- 
tion ;  and  lastly,  nervous  energy,  or  that  form  of  force 
which,  on  the  one  hand,  stimulates  a  muscle  to  contract, 
and  on  the  other,  appears  in  forms  called  mental. 

The  heat  which  is  produced  by  the  living  body  is  ob- 
viously of  the  same  nature  as  heat  from  any  other  source  ; 
it  is  recognized  by  the  same  tests,  and  may  be  applied  for 
the  same  purposes.  As  to  its  origin,  it  is  evident  that 
since  potential  energy  exists  in  the  food  which  enters 
the  body,  and  is  there  converted  into  force,  a  portion  of 
it  may  become  the  actual  energy  of  heat.  And  since, 
too,  the  heat  produced  in  the  body  is  precisely  such  as 
would  be  set  free  by  the  combustion  of  this  food  out- 
side of  it,  it  is  fair  to  assume  that  it  thus  originates.  To 


(i7)  53 

this  may  be  added  the  chemical  argument  that  while 
food  capable  of  yielding  heat  by  combustion  is  taken 
into  the  body,  its  constituents  are  completely  or  almost 
completely,  oxidized  before  leaving  it ;  and  since  oxida- 
tion always  evolves  heat,  the  heat  of  the  body  must 
have  its  origin  in  the  oxidation  of  the  food.  Moreover, 
careful  measurements  have  demonstrated  that  the  amount 
of  heat  given  off  by  the  body  of  a  man  weighing  180 
pounds  is  about  2,500,000  units.  Accurate  calculations 
have  shown,  on  the  other  hand,  that  288*4  grams  of  car- 
bon and  1 2 '56  grams  of  hydrogen  are  available  in  the 
daily  food  for  the  production  of  heat.  If  burned  out  of 
the  body,  these  quantities  of  carbon  and  hydrogen  would 
yield  2,765,134  heat  units.  Burned  within  it,  as  we  have 
just  seen,  2,500,000  units  appear  as  heat ;  the  rest  in 
other  forms  of  energy.21  We  conceive,  however,  that  no 
long  argument  is  necessary  to  prove  that  animal  heat 
results  from  a  conversion  of  energy  within  the  body  j  or 
that  the  vital  force  heat,  is  as  truly  correlated  to  the 
other  forces  as  when  it  it  has  a  purely  physical  origin. 

The  belief  that  the  muscular  force  exerted  by  an  ani- 
mal is  created  by  him  is  by  no  means  confined  to  the 
very  earliest  ages  of  history.  Traces  of  it  appear  to 
the  careful  observer  even  now,  although,  as  Dr.  Frank- 
land  says,  science  has  proved  that  "an  animal  can  no 
more  generate  an  amount  of  force  capable  of  moving  a 
grain  of  sand  than  a  stone  can  fall  upward  or  a  loco- 
motive drive  a  train  without  fuel."22  In  studying  the 
characters  of  muscular  action  we  notice,  first,  that,  as 
in  the  case  of  heat,  the  force  which  it  develops  is  in  no 
wise  different  from  motion  in  inorganic  nature.  In  the 
early  part  of  the  lecture,  motion  produced  by  the  con- 


54  (t8) 

traction  of  muscle,  was  used  to  show  the  conversion  of 
mass-force  into  molecular  force.  No  one  in  this  room 
believes,  I  presume,  that  the  result  would  have  been  at 
all  different,  had  the  motion  been  supplied  by  a  steam- 
engine  or  a  water-wheel.  Again,  food,  as  we  have  seen, 
is  of  value  for  the  potential  energy  it  contains,  which 
may  become  actual  in  the  body.  Liebig,  in  1842,  as- 
serted that  for  the  production  of  muscular  force,  the 
food  must  first  be  converted  into  muscular  tissue,23  a 
view  until  recently  accepted  by  physiologists.^  It  has 
been  conclusively  shown,  however,  within  a  few  yeare, 
that  muscular  force  cannot  come  from  the  oxidation  of 
its  own  substance,  since  the  products  of  this  metamor 
phosis  are  not  increased  in  amount  by  muscular  exer- 
tion.^ Indeed,  reasoning  from  the  whole  amount  of  such 
products  excreted,  the  oxidation  of  the  amount  of  mus- 
cle which  they  represent  would  furnish  scarcely  one- 
fifth  of  the  mechanical  force  of  the  body.  But  while 
the  products  of  tissue- oxidation  do  not  increase  with 
the  increase  of  muscular  exertion,  the  amount  of  car- 
bonic gas  exhaled  by  the  lungs  is  increased  in  the  exact 
ratio  of  the  work  done.26  No  doubt  can  be  entertained, 
therefore,  that  the  actual  energy  of  the  muscle  is  simply 
the  converted  potential  energy  of  the  carbon  of  the  food. 
A  muscle,  therefore,  like  a  steam-engine,  is  a  machine 
for  converting  the  potential  energy  of  carbon  into  motion. 
But  unlike  a  steam-engine,  the  muscle  accomplishes  this 
conversion  directly,  the  energy  not  passing  through  the 
intermediate  stage  of  heat.  For  this  reason,  the  mus- 
cle is  the  most  economical  producer  of  mechanical  force 
known.  While  no  machine  whatever  can  transform  all 
of  the  energy  into  motion — the  most  economical  steam 


(i9)  55 

engine^  utilizing  only  one-twentieth  of  the  heat — the 
muscle  is  able  to  convert  one-fifth  of  the  energy  of  the 
food  into  work.2?  The  other  four-fifths  must,  therefore, 
appear  as  heat.  Whenever  a  muscle  contracts,  then, 
four  times  as  much  energy  appears  as  heat  as  is  con- 
verted into  motion.  Direct  experiments  by  Heidenhain 
have  confirmed  this,  by  showing  that  an  important  rise 
of  temperature  attends  muscular  contraction  ; 28  a  fact, 
however,  apparent  to  any  one  who  has  ever  taken  active 
exercise.  The  work  done  by  the  animal  body  is  of  two 
sorts,  internal  and  external.  The  former  includes  the 
action  of  the  heart,  of  the  respiratory  muscles,  and  of 
those  assisting  the  digestive  process.  The  latter  refers 
to  the  useful  work  the  body  may  perform.  Careful  esti- 
mates place  the  entire  work  of  the  body  at  about  800 
foot-tons  daily  ;  of  which  450  foot-tons  is  internal,  350 
foot-tons  external  work.  And  since  the  internal  work 
ultimately  appears  as  heat  within  the  body,  the  actual 
loss  of  heat  by  the  production  of  motion  is  the  equiv- 
alent of  the  350  foot-tons  which  represents  external 
work.  This  by  a  simple  calculation  will  be  found  to  be 
250,000  heat  units,  almost  the  precise  amount  by  which 
the  heat  yielded  by  the  food  when  burned  without  the 
body,  exceeds  that  actually  evolved  by  the  organism. 
Moreover,  while  the  total  heat  given  off  by  the  body  is 
2,500,000  units,  the  amount  of  energy  evolved  as  work 
is  equal  to  about  600,000  heat  units ;  hence  the  amount 
of  work  done  by  a  muscle  is  as  above  stated,  one-fifth 
of  the  actual  energy  derivable  from  the  food.  One  point 
further.  The  law  of  correlation  requires  that  the  heat  set 
free  when  a  muscle  in  contracting  does  work,  shall  be 
less  than  when  it  effects  nothing  j  this  fact,  too,  has  been 


56  (  20 ; 

experimentally  established  by  Heidenhain.2?  So,  again, 
when  muscular  contraction  does  not  result  in  motion, 
as  when  one  tries  to  raise  a  weight  too  heavy  for  him, 
the  energy  which  would  have  appeared  as  work,  takes 
the  form  of  heat :  a  result  deducible  by  the  law  of  cor- 
relation from  the  steam-engine. 

The  last  of  the  so-called  vital  forces  which  we  are  to 
examine,  is  that  produced  by  the  nerves  and  nervous 
centers.  In  the  nerve  which  stimulates  a  muscle  to 
contract,  this  force  is  undeniably  motion,  since  it  is 
propagated  along  this  nerve  from  one  extremity  to  the 
other.  In  common  language,  too,  this  idea  finds  cur- 
rency in  the  comparison  of  this  force  to  electricity  ;  the 
gray  or  cellular  matter  being  the  battery,  the  white  or 
fibrous  matter  the  conductors.  That  this  force  is  not 
electricity,  however,  Du  Bois-Reymond  has  demonstrated 
by  showing  that  its  velocity  is  only  97  feet  in  a  second, 
a  speed  equaled  by  the  greyhound  and  the  race-horse. 3° 
In  his  opinion,  the  propagation  of  a  nervous  impulse  is 
a  sort  of  successive  molecular  polarization,  like  mag- 
netism. But  that  this  agent  is  a  force,  as  analogous  to 
electricity  as  is  magnetism,  is  shown  not  only  by  the 
fact  that  the  transmission  of  electricity  along  a  nerve 
will  cause  the  contraction  of  the  muscle  to  which  it 
leads,  but  also  by  the  more  important  fact  that  the  con- 
traction of  a  muscle  is  excited  by  diminishing  its  nor- 
mal electrical  current  ;3*  a  result  which  could  take  place 
only  with  a  stimulus  closely  allied  to  electricity.  Nerve- 
force,  therefore,  must  be  a  transmuted  potential  energy. 

What,  now,  shall  we  say  of  that  highest  manifestation 
of  animal  life,  thought-power  ?  Has  the  upper  region 
called  intelligence  and  reason,  any  relations  to  physical 


2I  57 

force  ?  This  realm  has  not  escaped  the  searching  in- 
vestigation of  modern  science  ;  and  although  in  it  in- 
vestigations are  vastly  more  difficult  than  in  any  of  the 
regions  thus  far  considered,  yet  some  results  of  great 
value  have  been  obtained,  which  .may  help  us  to  a  solu- 
tion of  our  problem.  It  is  to  be  observed  at  the  outset 
that  every  external  manifestation  of  thought-force  is  a 
muscular  one,  as  a  word  spoken  or  written,  a  gesture,  or 
an  expression  of  the  face  ;  and  hence  this  force  must 
be  intimately  correlated  with  nerve-force.  These  mani- 
festations, reaching  the  mind  through  the  avenues  of 
sense,  awaken  accordant  trains  of  thought  only  when 
this  muscular  evidence  is  understood.  A  blank  sheet 
of  paper  excites  no  emotion  ;  even  covered  with  Assyr- 
ian cuneiform  characters,  its  alternations  of  black  and 
white  awaken  no  response  in  the  ordinary  brain.  It  is 
only  when,  by  a  frequent  repetition  of  these  impressions, 
the  brain-cell  has  been  educated,  that  these  before 
meaningless  characters  awaken  thought.  Is  thought, 
then,  simply  a  cell  action  which  may  or  may  not  result 
in  muscular  expression — an  action  which  originates  new 
combinations  of  truth  only,  precisely  as  a  calculating 
machine  evolves  new  combinations  of  figures  ?  What- 
ever we  define  thought  to  be,  this  fact  appears  certain, 
that  it  is  capable  of  external  manifestation  by  conver- 
sion into  the  actual  energy  of  motion,  and  only  by  this 
conversion.  But  here  tr^e  question  arises,  Can  it  be 
manifested  inwardly  without  such  a  transformation  of 
energy  ?  Or  is  the  evolution  of  thought  entirely  inde- 
pendent of  the  matter  of  the  brain  ?  Experiments,  in- 
genious and  reliable,  have  answered  this  question.  The 
importance  of  the  results  will,  I  trust,  warrant  me  in 


58  (22) 

examining  the  methods  employed  in  these  experiments 
somewhat  in  detail.  Inasmuch  as  our  methods  for 
measuring  minute  amounts  of  electricity  are  very  perfect, 
and  the  methods  for  the  conversion  of  heat  into  elec- 
tricity are  equally  delicate,  it  has  been  found  that  smaller 
differences  of  temperature  may  be  recognized  by  con- 
verting the  heat  into  electricity,  than  can  be  detected 
thermometrically.  The  apparatus,  first  used  by  Melloni 
in  i832,32  is  very  simple,  consisting  first,  of  a  pair  of 
metallic  bars  like  those  described  in  the  early  part  of 
the  lecture,  for  effecting  the  conversion  of  the  heat ;  and 
second,  of  a  delicate  galvanometer,  for  measuring  the 
electricity  produced.  In  the  experiments  in  question 
one  of  the  bars  used  was  made  of  bismuth,  the  other 
of  an  alloy  of  antimony  and  zinc.33  Preliminary  trials 
having  shown  that  any  change  of  temperature  within 
the  skull  was  soonest  manifested  externally  in  that  de- 
pression which  exists  just  above  the  occipital  protuber- 
ance, a  pair  of  these  little  bars  was  fastened  to  the  head 
at  this  point ;  and  to  neutralize  the  results  of  a  general 
rise  of  temperature  over  the  whole  body,  a  second  pair, 
reversed  in  direction,  was  attached  to  the  leg  or  arm,  so 
that  if  a  like  increase  of  heat  came  to  both,  the  elec- 
tricity developed  by  one  would  be  neutralized  by  the 
other,  and  no  effect  be  produced  upon  the  needle  unless 
only  one  was  affected.  By  long  practice  it  was  ascer- 
tained that  a  state  of  mental  torpor  could  be  induced, 
lasting  for  hours,  in  which  the  needle  remained  sta- 
tionary. But  let  a  person  knock  on  the  door  outside 
the  room,  or  speak  a  single  word,  even  thc-ugh  the  ex- 
perimenter remained  absolutely  passive,  and  the  recep- 
tion of  the  intelligence  caused  the  needle  to  swing 


*3  59 

through  20  degrees.34  In  explanation  of  this  production 
of  heat,  the  analogy  of  the  muscle  at  once  suggests 
itself.  No  conversion  of  energy  is  complete  ;  and  as 
the  heat  of  muscular  action  represents  force  which  has 
escaped  conversion  into  motion,  so  the  heat  evolved 
during  the  reception  of  an  idea,  is  energy  which  has  es- 
caped conversion  into  thought,  from  precisely  the  same 
cause.  Moreover,  these  experiments  have  shown  that 
ideas  which  affect  the  emotions,  produce  most  heat  in 
their  reception  •  "  a  few  minutes'  recitation  to  one's  self 
of  emotional  poetry,  producing  more  effect  than  several 
hours  of  deep  thought."  Hence  it  is  evident  that  the 
mechanism  for  the  production  of  deep  thought,  accom- 
plishes this  conversion  of  energy  far  more  perfectly 
than  that  which  produces  simply  emotion.  But  we  may 
take  a  step  further  in  this  same  direction.  A  muscle, 
precisely  as  the  law  of  correlation  requires,  develops 
less  heat  when  doing  work  than  when  it  contracts  with- 
out doing  it.  Suppose,  now,  that  beside  the  simple  re- 
ception of  an  idea  by  the  brain,  the  thought  is  expressed 
outwardly  by  some  muscular  sign.  The  conversion  now 
takes  two  directions,  and  in  addition  to  the  production 
of  thought,  a  portion  of  the  energy  appears  as  nerve  and 
muscle-power  ;  less,  therefore,  should  appear  as  heat, 
according  to  our,law  of  correlation.  Dr.  Lombard's  ex- 
periments have  shown  that  the  amount  of  heat  devel- 
oped by  the  recitation  to  one's  self  of  emotional  poetry, 
was  in  every  case  less  when  that  recitation  was  oral  ; 
/.  e.,  had  a  muscular  expression.  These  results  are  in 
accordance  with  the  well-known  fact  that  emotion  often 
finds  relief  in  physical  demonstrations  ;  thus  diminishing 
the  emotional  energy  by  converting  it  into  muscular. 


60  ( 24 ) 

Nor  do  these  facts  rest  upon  physical  evidence  alone. 
Chemistry  teaches  that  thought-force,  like  muscle-force, 
comes  from  the  food  ;  and  demonstrates  that  the  force 
evolved  by  the  brain,  like  that  produced  by  the  muscle, 
comes  not  from  the  disintegration  of  its  own  tissue,  but 
is  the  converted  energy  of  burning  carbon. 3s  Can  we 
longer  doubt,  then,  that  the  brain,  too,  is  a  machine  for 
the  conversion  of  energy  ?  Can  we  longer  refuse  to  be- 
lieve that  even  thought  is,  in  some  mysterious  way,  cor- 
related to  the  other  natural  forces  ?  and  this,  even  in 
face  of  the  fact  that  it  has  never  yet  been  measured  ?  36 

I  cannot  close  without  saying  a  word  concerning  the 
part  which  our  own  country  has  had  in  the  development 
of  these  great  truths.  Beginning  with  heat,  we  find  that 
the  material  theory  of  caloric  is  indebted  for  its  over- 
throw more  to  the  distinguished  Count  Rumford  than  to 
any  other  one  man.  While  superintending  the  boring 
of  cannon  at  the  Munich  Arsenal  towards  the  close  of 
the  last  century,  he  was  struck  by  the  large  amount  of 
heat  developed,  and  instituted  a  careful  series  of  exper- 
iments to  ascertain  its  origin.  These  experiments  led 
him  to  the  conclusion  that  "  anything  which  any  in- 
sulated body  or  system  of  bodies  can  continue  to  furnish 
without  limitation,  cannot  possibly  be  a  material  sub- 
stance." But  this  man,  to  whom  must  be  ascribed  the 
discovery  of  the  first  great  law  of  the  correlation  of 
energy,  was  an  American.  Born  in  Woburn,  Mass.,  in 
1753,  he,  under  the  name  of  Benjamin  Thompson, 
taught  school  afterward  at  Concord,  N.  H.,  then  called 
Rumford.  Unjustly  suspected  of  toryism  during  our 
Revolutionary  war,  he  went  abroad  and  distinguished 
himself  in  the  service  of  several  of  the  Governments  of 


Europe.  He  did  not  forget  his  native  land,  though  she 
had  treated  him  so  unfairly ;  when  the  honor  of  knight- 
hood was  tendered  him,  he  chose  as  his  title  the  name 
of  the  Yankee  village  where  he  had  taught  school,  and 
was  thenceforward  known  as  Count  Rumford.  And  at 
his  death,  by  founding  a  professorship  in  Harvard  Col- 
lege, and  donating  a  prize-fund  to  the  American  Acad- 
emy of  Arts  and  Sciences  at  Boston,  he  showed  his  in- 
terest in  her  prosperity  and  advancement.^  Nor  has 
the  field  of  vital  forces  been  without  earnest  workers 
belonging  to  our  own  country.  Professors  John  W. 
Drapers8  and  Joseph  Henry 39  were  among  its  earliest 
explorers.  And  in  1851,  Dr.  J.  H.  Watters,  now  of  St. 
Louis,  published  a  theory  of  the  origin  of  vital  force, 
almost  identical  with  that  for  which  Dr.  Carpenter,  of 
London,  has  of  late  received  so  much  credit.  Indeed, 
there  is  Some  reason  to  believe  that  Dr.  Watters's  essay 
may  have  suggested  to  the  distinguished  English  physi- 
ologist the  germs  of  his  own  theory.^0  A  paper  on  this 
subject  by  Prof.  Joseph  Leconte,  of  Columbia,  S.  C.,  pub- 
lished in  1859,  attracted  much  attention  abroad.^1  The 
remarkable  results  already  given  on  the  relation  of  heat 
to  mental  work,  which  thus  far  are  unique  in  science,  we 
owe  to  Professor  J.  S.  Lombard,  of  Harvard  College  :  <2 
th6  very  combination  of  metals  used  in  his  apparatus 
being  devised  by  our  distinguished  electrical  engineer, 
Mr.  Moses  G.  Farmer.  Finally,  researches  conducted 
by  Dr.  T.  R.  Noyes  in  the  Physiological  Laboratory  of 
Yale  College,  have  confirmed  the  theory  that  muscular 
tissue  does  not  wear  during  action,  up  to  the  point  of 
fatigue  ;«  and  other  researches  by  Dr.  L.  H.  Wood  have 
first  established  the  same  great  truth  for  brain-tissue.^ 


62  (26) 

* 

We  need  not  be  ashamed,  then,  of  our  part  in  this  ad- 
vance in  science.  Our  workers  are,  indeed,  but  few ; 
but  both  they  and  their  results  will  live  in  the  records 
of  the  world's  progress.  More  would  there  be  now  of 
them  were  such  studies  more  fostered  and  encouraged. 
Self-denying,  earnest  men  are  ready  to  give  themselves 
up  to  the  solution  of  these  problems,  if  only  the  means 
of  a  bare  subsistence  be  allowed  them.  When  wealth 
shall  foster  science,  science  will  increase  wealth — wealth 
pecuniary,  it  is  true  :  but  also  wealth  of  knowledge, 
which  is  far  better. 

In  looking  back  over  the  whole  of  this  discussion,  I 
trust  that  it  is  possible  to  see  that  the  objects  which  we 
had  in  view  at  its  commencement  have  been  more  or 
less  fully  attained.  I  would  fain  believe  that  we  now 
see  more  clearly  the  beautiful  harmonies  of  bounteous 
nature  ;  that  on  her  many-stringed  instrument  force  an- 
swers to  force,  like  the  notes  of  a  great  symphony  j  dis- 
appearing now  in  potential  energy,  and  anon  reappear- 
ing as  actual  energy,  in  a  multitude  of  forms.  I  would 
hope  that  this  wonderful  unity  and  mutual  interaction 
of  force  in  the  dead  forms  of  inorganic  nature,  appears 
to  you  identical  in  the  living  forms  of  animal  and  vege- 
table life,  which  make  of  our  earth  an  Eden.  That 
even  that  mysterious,  and  in  many  aspects  awful,  power 
of  thought,  by  which  man  influences  the  present  and 
future  ages,  is  a  part  of  this  great  ocean  of  energy.  But 
here  the  great  question  rolls  upon  us,  Is  it  only  this  ? 
Is  there  not  behind  this  material  substance,  a  higher 
than  molecular  power  in  the  thoughts  which  are  immor- 
talized in  the  poetry  of  a  Milton  or  a  Shakespeare,  the 
art  creations  of  a  Michael  Angelo  or  a  Titian,  the  har- 


(27)  63 

monies  of  a  Mozart  or  a  Beethoven  ?  Is  there  really 
no  immortal  portion  separable  from  this  brain-tissue, 
though  yet  mysteriously  united  to  it  ?  In  a  word,  does 
this  curiously-fashioned  body  inclose  a  soul,  God-given 
and  to  God  returning  ?  Here  Science  veils  her  face 
and  bows  in  reverence  before  the  Almighty.  We  have 
passed  the  boundaries  by  which  physical  science  is  in- 
closed. No  crucible,  no  subtle  magnetic  needle  can 
answer  now  our  questions.  No  word  but  His  who 
formed  us,  can  break  the  awful  silence.  In  presence  of 
such  a  revelation  Science  is  dumb,  and  faith  comes  in 
joyfully  to  accept  that  higher  truth  which  can  never  be 
the  object  of  physical  demonstration. 


NOTES  AND  REFERENCES. 


1  HUMBOLDT,  Views  of  Nature,  Bohn's  ed.,  London,  1850,  p.  380. 
This  allegory  did  not  appear  in  the  first  edition  of  the  Views  of 
Nature.     In  the  preface  to  the  second  edition  the  author  gives  the 
following  account  of  its  origin :  "  Schiller,"  he  says,  "  in  remem- 
brance of  his  youthful  medical  studies,  loved  to  converse  with  me, 
during  my  long  stay  at  Jena,  on  physiological  subjects."    *    *    * 
"  It  was  at  this  period  that  I  wrote  the  little  allegory  on  Vital  Force, 
called  The  Rhodian  Genius.     The  predilection  which  Schiller  en- 
tertained for  this  piece,  which  he  admitted  into  his  periodical,  Die 
Horen,  gave  me  courage  to  introduce  it  here."    It  was  published  in 
Die  Horen  in  1 795. 

2  HUMBOLDT,  op.  cit.,  p.  386.     In  his  Aphorism*  ex  doctrina  Phys- 
iologies chemica  Plantarum,  appended  to  his  Flora  Fribergensis  sub- 
terranea,  published  in  1793.,  Humboldt  had  said  "Vim  internam, 
quae  chymicae  affinitatis  vincula  resolvit,  atque  obstat,  quominus 
elementa  corporum  libere  conjungantur,  vitalem  vocamus."    "  That 
internal  force,  which  dissolves  the  bonds  of  chemical  affinity,  and 
prevents  the  elements  of  bodies  from  freely  uniting,  we  call  vital." 
But  in  a  note  to  the  allegory  above  mentioned,  added  to  the  third  edi- 
tion of  the  Views  of  Nature  in  1849,  he  says :  "Reflection  and  pro- 
longed study  in  the  departments  of  physiology  and  chemistry  have 
deeply  shaken  my  earlier  belief  in  peculiar  so-called  vital  forces.     In 
the  year  1 797,    *    *    *    I  already  declared  that  I  by  no  means  re  - 
garded  the  existence  of  these  peculiar  vital  forces  as  established." 
And  again:  "The  difficulty  of  satisfactorily  referring  the  vital  phe- 


66  (3o) 

nomena  of  the  organism  to  physical  and  chemical  laws  depends  chiefly 
(and  almost  in  the  same  manner  as  the  prediction  of  meteorological 
processes  in  the  atmosphere)  on  the  complication  of  the  phenomena, 
and  on  the  great  number  of  the  simultaneously  acting  forces  as  well 
as  the  conditions  of  their  activity." 

3  Compare  HENRY  BENCE  JONES,  Croonian  Lectures  on  Matter 
and  Force.     London,  1868,  John  Churchill  &  Sons. 

4  Ib.,  Preface,  p.  vi. 

5  RANKINE,   W.  J.   M.,  Philosophical    Magazine,   Feb.,    1853. 
Also  Edinburgh  Philosophical  Journal,  July,  1855. 

6  ARMSTRONG,  Sir   WM.     In  his  address   as  President  of  the 
British  Association  for  the  Advancement  of  Science.      Rep.  Brit. 
Assoc.,  1863,  li. 

7  GROVE,  W.  R.,  in  1842.     Compare  "Nature"  i,  335,  Jan.  27, 
1870.     Also  Appleton's  Journal,  iii,  324,  Mch.  19,  1870. 

8  Id.,  in  Preface  to  The  Correlation  of  Physical  Forces,  4th  ed. 
Reprinted  in  The  Correlation  and  Conservation  of  Forces,  edited 
by  E.  L.  Youmans,  p.  7.     New  York,  1865,  D.  Appleton  &  Co. 

9  Id.,  ib.,  Am.  ed.,  p.  33  et  seq. 

10  JOULE,  J.  P.,  Philosophical  Transactions,  1850,  p.  61. 

11  See  American  Journal  of  Science,  II,  xxxvii,  296,  1864. 

12  The  work  (W)  done  by  a  moving  body  is  commonly  expressed 
"by  the  formula  W=MV2,  in  which  M,  or  the  mass  of  the  body,  is 

\v 

equal  to  —  j   /.  e.,  to  the  weight  divided  by  twice  the  intensity 

of  gravity.      The  work  done  by  our  cannon-ball  then,  would  be 

- — -        y- =9,404*  1 4  foot-tons.     If,  further,  we   assume   the   re- 
2X041-3  , 

sisting  body  to  be  of  such  a  character  as  to  bring  the  ball  to 
rest  in  moving  ^  of  an  inch,  then  the  final  pressure  would  be 
9,4O4'i4X  12X4=45 1, 3987  tons-  But  since,  "in  the  case  of  a  pre- 
fectly  elastic  body,  or  of  a  resistance  proportional  to  the  advance  of 
the  center  of  gravity  of  the  impinging  body  from  the  point  at  which 
contact  first  takes  place,  the  final  pressure  (provided  the  body 


Struck  is  perfectly  rigid)  is  double  what  would  occur  were  the  stop- 
page to  occur  at  the  end  of  a  corresponding  advance  against  a  uni- 
form resistance,"  this  result  must  be  multiplied  by  two ;  and  we  gel 
(45I>398'7X2)  902,797  tons  as  the  crushing  pressure  of  the  ball  un- 
der these  conditions.  [The  author's  thanks  are  due  to  his  friends 
Pres.  F.  A.  P.  Barnard  and  Mr.  J.  J.  Skinner  for  suggestions  on 
the  relation  of  impact  to  statical  pressure.] 

13  The  unit  of  impact  being  that  given  by  a  body  weighing  one 
pound  and  moving  one  foot  a  second,  the  impact  of  such  a  body 
falling  from  a  hight  of  772  feet — the  velocity  acquired  being  222)4 
feet  per  second  (=*/~^) — would  be  IX  (2223^)2=49,408  units,  the 
equivalent  in  impact  of  one  heat-unit.      A  cannon-ball  weighing 
1000  Ibs.  and  moving  noo  feet  a  second  would  have  an  impact  of 
( i  ioo)2X  1000=  i, 2 10,000,000   units.     Dividing  this  by  49,408,  the 
quotient  is  24489  heat-units,  the  equivalent  of  the  impact.     The 
•specific  heat  of  iron  being  '1138,  this  amount  of  heat  would  raise 
the  temperature  of  one  pound  of  iron  215,191°  F.  (24,489 X '1138)  or 
of  1000  pounds  of  iron  215°  F.  24489  pounds  of  water  heated  one 
degree,  is  equal  to  1363-0  pounds,  or  17  gallons  U.  S.,  heated  180 
degrees ;  ;'.  *?.,  from  32°  to  212°  F. 

14  Assuming  the  density  of  the  earth  to  be  5-5,  its  weight  would 
be  6,500,000,000,000,000,000,000  tons,  and  its  impact — by  the  for- 
mula given  above — would  be  1,025,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,- 
ooo  foot-tons.     Making  the  same  supposition  as  in  the  case  of  our 
cannon-ball,  the  final  pressure  would  be  that  here  stated. 

15  TYNDALL,  J.,  Heat  considered  as  a  mode  of  Motion;  Air),  ed., 
p.  57,  New  York,  1863. 

1 6  RANKINE  (The  Steam-engine  and  other  prime  Movers,  Lon- 
don, 1866,)  gives  the  efficiency  of  Steam-engines  as  from  i-i5th  to 
I -20th  of  the  heat  of  the  fuel. 

ARMSTRONG,  Sir  WM.,  places  this  efficiency  at  i-ioth  as  the 
maximum.  In  practice,  the  average  result  is  only  i-3Oth.  Rep. 
Brit.  Assoc.,  1863,  p.  liv. 

HELMHOLTZ,  H.  L.  F.,  says  :  "The  best  expansive  engines  give 
back  as  mechanical  work  only  eighteen  per  cent,  of  the  heat  gen- 
erated by  the  fuel."  Interaction  of  Natural  Forces,  in  Correlation 
and  Conservation  of  Forces,  p.  227. 


17  THOMSEN,  JULIUS,  Poggendorff's  Annalen,  cxx;?/t  3 
in  abstract  in  Am.  J.  Sci.,  II,  xli,  396,  May,  1866. 

18  American  Journal  of  Science,  II,  xli,  214,  March, 

19  In  this  calculation  the  annual  evaporation  from  the  ocean  is 
assumed  to  be  about  9  feet.     (See  Dr.  BUIST,  quoted  in  Maury's 
Phys.  Geography  of  the  Sea,  New  York,  1861,  p.  n.)     Calling  the 
water-area  of  our  globe  150,000,000  square  miles,  the  total  evap- 
oration in  tons  per  minute,  would  be  that  here  given.     Inasmuch 
as  30,000  pounds  raised  one-foot  high  is  a  horse-power,  the  number 
of  horse-powers  necessary  to  raise  this  quantity  of  water  3  M  miles 
in  one  minute  is  2,757,000,000,000.     This  amount  of  energy  is  pre- 
cisely that  set  free  again  when  this  water  falls  as  rain. 

20  Compare  ODLING,  WM.,  Lectures  on  Animal  Chemistry,  Lon- 
don, 1866.     "In  broad  antagonism  to  the  doctrines  which  only  a 
few  years  back  were  regarded  as  indisputable,  we  now  find  that  the 
chemist,  like  the  plant,  is  capable  of  producing  from  carbonic  acid 
and  water  a  whole  host  of  organic  bodies,  and  we  see  no  reason  to 
question  his  ultimate  ability  to  reproduce  all  animal  and  vegetable 
principles  whatsoever."     (p..  52.) 

"  Already  hundreds  of  organic  principles  have  been  built  up  from 
their  constituent  elements,  and  there  is  now  no  reason  to  doubt  our 
capability  of  producing  all  organic  principles  whatsoever  in  a  sim- 
ilar manner."  (p.  58.) 

Dr.  Odling  is  the  successor  of  Faraday  as  Fullerian  Professor 
of  Chemistry  in  the  Royal  Institution  of  Great  Britain. 

21  MARSHALL,  JOHN,  Outlines  of  Physiology,  American  edition, 
1868,  p.  916. 

22  FRANKLAND,  EDWARD,  On  the  Source  of  Muscular  Power, 
Proc.  Roy.  Inst,  June  8,  1866;  Am.  J.  Sci.,  II,  xlii,  393,  Nov.  1866. 

23  LIEBIG,  JUSTUS  VON,  Die  organische  Chemie  in  ihrer  Anwen- 
dung  auf  Physiologie  und  Pathologic,  Braunschweig,  1842.     Also 
in  his  Animal  Chemistry,  edition  of  1852  (Am.  ed.,  p.  26),  where  he 
says  "  Every  motion  increases  the  amount  of  organized  tissue  which 
undergoes  metamorphosis." 

24  Compare  DRAPER,  JOHN  WM.     Human  Physiology. 


(33)  69 

PLAYFAIR,  LYON,  On  the  Food  of  Man  in  relation  to  his  useful 
ttv,,-*,  Edinburgh,  1865.     Proc.  Roy.  Inst.,  Apr.  28,  1865. 
RANKE,  Tetanus  eine  Physiologische  Studie,  Leipzig,  1865. 
ODLING,  op.  tit. 

2$  VOIT,  E.,  Untersuchungen  iiber  den  Einfluss  des  Kochsalzes, 
des  Kaffees,  und  der  Muskelbewegungen  auf  den  Stoffwechsel, 
Munich,  1860. 

SMITH,  E.,  Philosophical  Transactions,  1861,  747. 

FICK,  A.,  and  WISLICENUS,  J.,  Phil.  Mag.,  IV,  xxxi,  485. 

FRANKLAND,  E.,  loc.  tit. 

NOYES,  T.  R.,  American  Journal  Medical  Sciences,  Oct.  1867. 

PARKES,  E.  A.,  Proceedings  Royal  Society,  xv,  339 ;  xvi,  44. 

26  SMITH,  EDWARD,  Philosophical  Transactions,  1859,  709. 

27  Authorities    differ   as   to   the  amount  of  energy   converted 
by    the    steam-engine.     (See  Note   16.)     Compare    MARSHALL, 
op.  tit.,  p.  918.     "Whilst,  therefore,  in  an  engine  one-twentieth 
part  only  of  the  fuel  consumed  is  utilized  as  mechanical  power,  one- 
fifth  of  the  food  absorbed  by  man  is  so  appropriated." 

28  HEIDENHAIN,    Mechanische    Leistung    Warmeentwickelung 
und  Stoffumsatz  bei  der  Muskelthatigkeit,  Breslau,  1864. 

See  also  HAUGHTON,  SAMUEL,  On  the  Relation  of  Food  to 
work,  published  in  "Medicine  in  Modern  Times,"  London,  1869, 
Masmillan  &  Co. 

29  HEIDENHAIN,  op.  tit.    Also  by  FICK,  Untersuchungen  fiber 
Muskel-arbeit,  Basel,  1867.     Compare  also  "Nature,"  i,  159,  Dec. 
9,  1869. 

30  Du  BOIS-REYMOND,  EMIL,  On  the  time  required  for  the  trans- 
mission of  volition  and  sensation  through  the  nerves,  Proc.  Roy. 
Inst.     Also  in  Appendix  to  Bence  Jones's  Croonian  lectures. 

31  MARSHALL,  op.  tit.,  p.  227. 

32  MELLONI,  Ann.  Ch.  Phys.,  xlviii,  198. 

See  also  NOBILI,  Bibl.  Univ.,  xliv,  225,  1830;  Ivii,  I,  1834. 

33  The  apparatus  employed  is  illustrated  and  fully  described  in 
Brown-Sequard's  Archives  de  Physiologic,  i,  498,  June,  1868.     By 
it  the  i-4ocoth  of  a  degree  Centigrade  may  be  indicated. 


7°  (34) 

34  LOMBARD,  J.  S.,  New  York  Medical  Journal,  v,  198,  June,  1867. 
[A  part  of  these  facts  were  communicated  to  me  directly  by  th_> 
discoverer.] 

35  WOOD,  L.  H.,  On  the  influence  of  Mental  activity  on  the  Ex- 
cretion of  Phosphoric  acid  by  the  Kidneys.     Proceedings  Connec- 
ticut Medical  Society  for  1869,  p.  197. 

36  On  this  question  of  vital  force,  see  LIEBIG,  Animal  Chemistry. 
"The  increase  of  mass  in  a  plant  is  determined  by  the  occurrence 
of  a  decomposition  which  takes  place  in  certain  parts  of  the  plant 
under  the  influence  of  light  and  heat." 

"  The  modern  science  of  Physiology  has  left  the  track  of  Aristotle. 
To  the  eternal  advantage  of  science,  and  to  the  benefit  of  mankind 
it  no  longer  invents  a  horror  vacui^  a  quinta  essentia^  in  order  to  fur- 
nish credulous  hearers  with  solutions  and  explanations  of  phenom- 
ena, whose  true  connection  with  others,  whose  ultimate  cause  is  still 
unknown." 

"  All  the  parts  of  the  animal  body  are  produced  from  a  peculiar 
fluid  circulating  in  its  organism,  by  virtue  of  an  influence  residing 
in  every  cell,  in  every  organ,  or  part  of  an  organ." 

"  Physiology  has  sufficiently  decisive  grounds  for  the  opinion  that 
every  motion,  every  manifestation  of  force,  is  the  result  of  a  trans- 
formation of  the  structure  or  of  its  substance ;  that  every  concep- 
tion, every  mental  affection,  is  followed  by  changes  in  the  chemical 
nature  of  the  secreted  fluids ;  that  every  thought,  every  sensation 
is  accompanied  by  a  change  in  the  composition  of  the  substance  of 
the  brain." 

"All  vital  activity  arises  from  the  mutual  action  of  the  oxygen  of 
the  atmosphere  and  the  elements  of  the  food." 

"  As,  in  the  closed  galvanic  circuit,  in  consequence  of  certain 
changes  which  an  inorganic  body,  a  metal,  undergoes  when  placed 
in  contact  with  an  acid,  a  certain  something  becomes  cognizable  by 
our  senses,  which  we  call  a  current  of  electricity ;  so  in  the  animal 
body,  in  consequence  of  transformations  and  changes  undergone  by 
matter  previously  constituting  a  part  of  the  organism,  certain  phe- 
nomena of  motion  and  activity  are  perceived,  and  these  we  call  life, 
or  vitality." 

"  In  the  animal  body  we  recognize  as  the  ultimate  cause  of  all 


(35)  r« 

force  only  one  cause,  the  chemical  action  which  the  elements  of  the 
food  and  the  oxygen  of  the  air  mutually  exercise  on  each  other. 
The  only  known  ultimate  cause  of  vital  force,  either  in  animals  or 
in  plants,  is  a  chemical  process." 

"If  we  consider  the  force  which  determines  the  vital  phenomena 
as  a  property  of  certain  substances,  this  view  leads  of  itself  to  a  new 
and  more  rigorous  consideration  of  certain  singular  phenomena, 
which  these  very  substances  exhibit,  in  circumstances  in  which  they 
no  longer  make  a  part  of  living  organisms." 

Also  OWEN,  RICHARD,  (Derivative  Hypothesis  of  Life  and 
Species,  forming  the  4Oth  chapter  of  his  Anatomy  of  Vertebrates, 
republished  in  Am.  J.  Sci.,  II,  xlvii,  33,  Jan.  1869.)  "In  the  en- 
deavor to  clearly  comprehend  and  explain  the  functions  of  the  com- 
bination of  forces  called  '  brain,'  the  physiologist  is  hindered  and 
troubled  by  the  views  of  the  nature  of  those  cerebral  forces  which 
the  needs  of  dogmatic  theology  have  imposed  on  mankind."  *  * 
"  Religion  pure  and  undefined,  can  best  answer  how  far  it  is  right- 
eous or  just  to  charge  a  neighbor  with  being  unsound  in  his  princi- 
ples who  holds  the  term  '  life '  to  be  a  sound  expressing  the  sum 
of  living  phenomena ;  and  who  maintains  these  phenomena  to  be 
modes  of  force  into  which  other  forms  of  force  have  passed,  from 
potential  to  active  states,  and  reciprocally,  through  the  agency  of 
these  sums  or  combinations  offerees  impressing  the  mind  with  the 
ideas  signified  by  the  terms  'monad,'  'moss,'  'plant,'  or  'animal.'" 

And  HUXLEY,  THOS.  H.,  "  On  the  Physical  Basis  of  Life,"  Uni- 
versity Series,  No.  i.  College  Courant,  1870. 

Per  contra,  see  the  Address  of  Dr.  F.  A.  P.  Barnard,  as  retir- 
ing President,  before  the  Am.  Assoc.  for  the  Advancement  of  Sci- 
ence, Chicago  meeting,  August,  1868.  "Thought  cannot  be  a 
physical  force,  because  thought  admits  of  no  measure." 

GOULD,  BENJ.  APTHORP,  Address  as  retiring  President,  before 
the  American  Association  at  its  Salem  meeting,  Aug.,  1869. 

BEALE,  LIONEL  S.,  "  Protoplasm,  or  Life,  Matter,  and  Mind." 
London,  1870.  John  Churchill  £  Sons. 

37  For  an  excellent  account  of  this  distinguished  man,  see  You- 
mans's  Introduction  to  the  Correlation  and  Conservation  of  Forces, 
p.  xvii 


7*  (36) 

38  DRAPER,  J.  W.,  he.  cit. 

39  HENRY,  JOSEPH,  Agric.  Rep.  Patent  Office,  1857,  440. 

40  WAITERS,  J.  H.,  An  Essay  on  Organic,  or  Life-force.    Written 
for  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Medicine  in  the  University  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, Philadelphia,  1851.     See  also  St.  Louis  Medical  and  Surgi- 
cal Journal,  II,  v,  Nos.  3  and  4,  1868;  Dec.  1868,  and  Nov.  10, 
1869. 

41  LECONTE,  JOSEPH,  The  Correlation  of  Physical,  Chemical  and 
Vital  Force,  and  the  Conservation  of  Force  in  Vital  Phenomena. 
American  Journal  of  Science,  II,  xxviii,  305,  Nov.  1859. 

42  LOMBARD,  J.  S.,  loc.  cit. 

43  NOYES,  T.  R.,  loc.  cit. 

44  WOOD,  L.  H.,  loc.  cit. 


AS  REGARDS  PROTOPLASM,  ETC. 


PREFA7  ORY   NOTE 


The  substance  of  the  greater  part  of  this  paper,  which  has 
been  in  the  present  form  for  some  time,  was  delivered,  as  a 
lecture,  at  a  Conversazione  of  the  Royal  College  of  Physicians 
of  Edinburgh,  in  the  Hall  of  the  College,  on  the  evening  of 
Friday,  the  3Oth  of  April  last. 

It  will  be  found  to  support  itself,  so  far  as  the  facts  are 
concerned,  on  the  most  recent  German  physiological  literature, 
as  represented  by  Rindfleisch,  Kiihne,  and  especially  Strieker, 
with  which  last,  for  the  production  of  his  "  Handbuch,"  there 
is  associated  every  great  histological  name  in  Germany. 

EDINBURGH,    October,    1869. 


As  REGARDS  PROTOPLASM,  ETC. 


It  is  a  pleasure  to  perceive  Mr.  Huxley  open  his  clear 
little  essay  with  what  we  may  hold,  perhaps,  to  be  the 
manly  and  orthodox  view  of  the  character  and  products 
of  the  French  writer,  Auguste  Comte.  "  In  applying 
the  name  of  '  the  new  philosophy'  to  that  estimate  of 
the  limits  of  philosophical  inquiry  which  he"  (Professor 
Huxley),  "  in  common  with  many  other  men  of  science, 
holds  to  be  just,"  the  Archbishop  of  York  confounds,  it 
seems,  this  new  philosophy  with  the  Positive  philosophy 
of  M.  Comte ;  and  thereat  Mr.  Huxley  expresses  him- 
self as  greatly  astonished.  Some  of  us,  for  our  parts, 
may  be  inclined  at  first  to  feel  astonished  at  Mr.  Hux- 
ley's astonishment ;  for  the  school  to  which,  at  least  on 
the  philosophical  side,  Mr.  Huxley  seems  to  belong,  is 
even  notorious  for  its  postration  before  Auguste  Comte, 
whom,  especially,  so  far  as  method  and  systematization 
are  concerned,  it  regards  as  the  greatest  intellect  since 
Bacon.  For  such,  as  it  was  the  opinion  of  Mr.  Buckle, 
is  understood  to  be  the  opinion  also  of  Messrs.  Grote, 
Bain,  and  Mill.  In  fact,  we  may  say  that  such  is  com- 
monly and  currently  considered  the  characteristic  and 
distinctive  opinion  of  that  whole  perverted  or  inverted 
reaction  which  has  been  called  the  Revulsion.  That  is 
to  say,  to  give  this  word  a  moment's  explanation,  that 
the  Voltaires  and  Humes  and  Gibbons  having  long 
enjoyed  an  immunity  of  sneer  at  man's  blind  pride  and 


78  (6) 

wretched  superstition — at  his  silly  non-natural  honor 
and  her  silly  non-natural  virtue — a  reaction  had  set  in, 
exulting  in  poetry,  in  the  splendor  of  nature,  the  noble- 
ness of  man,  and  the  purity  of  woman,  from  which  re- 
action again  we  have,  almost  within  the  last  decennium, 
been  revulsively,  as  it  were,  called  back, — shall  we  say 
by  some  "  bolder"  spirits— the  Buckles,  the  Mills,  &c.  ? 
— to  the  old  illumination  or  enlightenment  of  a  hundred 
years  ago,  in  regard  to  the  weakness  and  stupidity  of 
man's  pretensions  over  the  animality  and  materiality 
that  limit  him.  Of  this  revulsion,  then,  as  said,  a  main 
feature,  especially  in  England,  has  been  prostration 
before  the  vast  bulk  of  Comte ;  and  so  it  was  that  Mr. 
Huxley's  protest  in  this  reference,  considering  the  phi- 
losophy he  professed,  had  that  in  it  to  surprise  at  first. 
But  if  there  was  surprise,  there  was  also  pleasure ;  for 
Mr.  Huxley's  estimate  of  Comte  is  undoubtedly  the 
right  one.  "  So  far  as  I  am  concerned,"  he  says,  "  the 
most  reverend  prelate"  (the  Archbishop  of  York) 
"  might  dialectically  hew  M.  Comte  in  pieces  as  a  mod- 
ern Agag,  and  I  should  not  attempt  to  stay  his  hand ; 
for,  so  far  as  my  study  of  what  specially  characterizes 
the  Positive  philosophy  has  led  me,  I  find  therein  little 
or  nothing  of  any  scientific  value,  and  a  great  deal 
which  is  as  thoroughly  antagonistic  to  the  very  essence 
of  science  as  anything  in  ultramontane  Catholicism." 
"It  was  enough,"  he  says  again,  "to  make  David  Hume 
turn  in  his  grave,  that  here,  almost  within  earshot  of 
his  house,  an  instructed  audience  should  have  listened 
without  a  murmur  while  his  most  characteristic  doc- 
trines were  attributed  to  a  French  writer  of  fifty  years' 
later  date,  in  whose  dreary  and  verbose  pages  we  miss 
alike  the  vigor  of  thought  and  the  exquisite  clearness 


(7)  79 

of  style  of  the  man  whom  I  make  bold  to  term  the 
most  acute  thinker  of  the  eighteenth  "century — even 
though  that  century  produced  Kant." 

Of  the  doctrines  themselves  which  are  alluded  to 
here,  I  shall  say  nothing  now ;  but  of  much  else  that  is 
said,  there  is  only  to  be  expressed  a  hearty  and  even 
gratified  approval.  I  demur,  to  be  sure,  to  the  exalta- 
tion of  Hume  over  Kant — high  as  I  place  the  former. 
Hume,  with  infinite  fertility,  surprised  us,  it  may  be 
said,  perhaps,  into  attention  on  a  great  variety  of  points 
\vhich  had  hitherto  passed  unquestioned  ;  but,  even  on 
these  points,  his  success  was  of  an  interrupted,  scattered 
and  inconclusive  nature.  He  set  the  world  adrift,  but 
he  set  man  too,  reeling  and  miserable,  adrift  with  it. 
Kant,  again,  with  gravity  and  reverence,  desired  to  refix, 
but  in  purity  and  truth,  all  those  relations  and  institu- 
tions which  alone  give  value  to  existence — which  alone 
are  humanity,  in  fact — but  which  Hume,  with  levity  and 
mockery,  had  approached  to  shake.  Kant  built  up 
again  an  entire  new  world  for  us  of  knowledge  and 
duty,  and,  in  a  certain  way,  even  belief;  whereas  Hume 
had  sought  to  dispossess  us  of  every  support  that  man 
as  man  could  hope  to  cling  to.  In  a  word,  with  at  least 
equal  fertility,  Kant  was,  as  compared  with  Hume,  a 
graver,  deeper,  and,  so  to  speak,  a  more  consecutive, 
more  comprehensive  spirit.  Graces  there  were  indeed, 
or  even,  it  may  be  said,  subtleties,  in  which  Hume  had 
the  advantage  perhaps.  He  '  is  still  in  England  an 
unsurpassed  master  of  expression — this,  certainly,  in 
his  History,  if  in  his  Essays  he  somewhat  baffles  his 
own  self  by  a  certain  labored  breadth  of  conscious  fine 
writing,  often  singularly  inexact  and  infelicitous.  Still 
Kant,  with  reference  to  his  products,  must  be  allowed 


8o  (8) 

much  the  greater  importance.  In  the  history  of  philos- 
ophy he  will  probably  always  command  as  influential 
a  place  in  the  modern  world  as  Socrates  in  the  ancient ; 
while,  as  probably,  Hume  will  occupy  at  best  some  such 
position  as  that  of  Heraclitus  or  Protagoras.  Hume, 
nevertheless,  if  equal  to  Kant,  must,  in  view  at  once  of 
his  own  subjective  ability  and  his  enormous  influence, 
be  pronounced  one  of  the  most  important  of  writers. 
It  would  be  difficult  to  rate  too  high  the  value  of  his 
French  predecessors  and  cotemporaries  as  regards  puri- 
fication of  their  oppressed  and  corrupt  country ;  and 
Hume  must  be  allowed,  though  with  less  call,  to  have 
subserved  some  such  function  in  the  land  we  live  in. 
In  preferring  Kant,  indeed,  I  must  be  acquitted  of  an 
undue  partiality ;  for  all  that  appertains  to  personal 
bias  was  naturally,  and  by  reason  of  early  and  numer- 
ous associations,  on  the  side  of  my  countryman. 

Demurring,  then,  to  Mr.  Huxley's  opinion  on  this 
matter,  and  postponing  remark  on  the  doctrines  to 
which  he  alludes,  I  must  express  a  hearty  concurrence 
with  every  word  he  utters  on  Comte.  In  him  I  too 
"  find  little  or  nothing  of  any  scientific  value."  I  too 
have  been  lost  in  the  mere  mirage  and  sands  of  "  those 
dreary  and  verbose  pages  ;"  and  I  acknowledge  in  Mr. 
Huxley's  every  word  the  ring  of  a  genuine  experience. 
M.  Comte  was  certainly  a  man  of  some  mathematical 
and  scientific  proficiency,  as  well  as  of  quick  but  biased 
intelligence.  A  member  of  the  Aiifklarung,  he  had 
seen  the  immense  advance  of  physical  science  since 
Newton,  under,  as  is  usually  said,  the  method  of  Bacon  : 
and,  like  Hume,  like  Reid,  like  Kant,  who  had  all  antici- 
pated him  in  this,  he  sought  to  transfer  that  method  to 
the  domain  of  mind.  In  this  he  failed ;  and  though  in 


(9>  8I 

a  sociological  aspect  he  is  not  without  true  glances  into 
the  present  disintegration  of  society  and  the  conditions 
of  it,  anything  of  importance  cannot  be  claimed  for 
him.  There  is  not  a  sentence  in  his  book  that,  in  the 
hollow  elaboration  and  windy  pretentiousness  of  its 
build,  is  not  an  exact  type  of  its  own  constructor.  On 
the  whole,  indeed,  when  we  consider  the  little  to  which 
he  attained,  the  empty  inflation  of  his  claims,  the  mon- 
strous and  maniacal  self-conceit  into  which  he  was 
exalted,  it  may  appear,  perhaps,  that  charity  to  M. 
Comte  himself,  to  say  nothing  of  the  world,  should 
induce  us  to  wish  that  both  his  name  and  his  works 
were  buried  in  oblivion.  Now,  truly,  that  Mr.  Huxley 
(the  "  call"  being  for  the  moment  his)  has  so  pronounced 
himself,  especially  as  the  facts  of  the  case  are  exactly 
and  absolutely  what  he  indicates,  perhaps  we  may 
expect  this  consummation  not  to  be  so  very  long 
delayed.  More  than  those  members  of  the  revulsion 
already  mentioned,  one  is  apt  to  suspect,  will  be  anxious 
now  to  beat  a  retreat.  Not  that  this,  however,  is  so 
certain  to  be  allowed  them ;  for  their  estimate  of  M. 
Comte  is  a  valuable  element  in  the  estimate  of  them- 
selves. 

•Frankness  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Huxley  is  not  limited 
to  his  opinion  of  M.  Comte  ;  it  accompanies  us  through- 
out his  whole  essay.  He  seems  even  to  take  pride, 
indeed,  in  naming  always  and  everywhere  his  object  at 
the  plainest.  That  object,  in  a  general  point  of  view, 
relates,  he  tells  us,  solely  to  materialism,  but  with  a 
double  issue.  While  it  is  his  declared  purpose,  in  the 
first  place,  namely,  to  lead  us  into  materialism,  it  is 
equally  his  declared  purpose,  in  the  second  place,  to 
lead  us  out  of  materialism.  On  the  first  issue,  for 


82  (lo) 

example,  he  directly  warns  his  audience  that  to  accept 
the  conclusions  which  he  conceives  himself  to  have 
established  on  Protoplasm,  is  to  accept  these  also : 
That  "  all  vital  action"  is  but  "  the  result  of  the  molec- 
ular forces"  of  the  physical  basis ;  and  that,  by  conse- 
quence, to  use  his  own  words  to  his  audience,  "  the 
thoughts  to  which  I  am  now  giving  utterance,  and  your 
thoughts  regarding  them,  are  but  the  expression  of 
molecular  changes  in  that  matter  of  life  which  is  the 
source  of  our  other  vital  phenomena."  And,  so  far, 
I  think,  we  shall  not  disagree  with  Mr.  Huxley  when 
he  says  that  "  most  undoubtedly  the  terms  of  his  propo- 
sitions are  distinctly  materialistic."  Still,  on  the  second 
issue,  Mr.  Huxley  asserts  that  he  is  "  individually  no 
materialist."  "  On  the  contrary,  he  believes  material- 
ism to  involve  grave  philosophical  error ;"  and  the 
"  union  of  materialistic  terminology  with  the  repudia- 
tion of  materialistic  philosophy"  he  conceives  himself 
to  share  "  with  some  of  the  most  thoughtful  men  with 
whom  he  is  acquainted."  In  short,  to  unite  both  issues, 
we  have  it  in  Mr.  Huxley's  own  words,  that  it  is  the 
single  object  of  his  essay  "  to  explain  how  such  a  union 
is  not  only  consistent  with,  but  necessitated  by,  sound 
logic  ;"  and  that,  accordingly,  Jie  will,  in  the  first  place, 
"  lead  us  through  the  territory  of  vital  phenomena  to 
the  materialistic  slough,"  while  pointing  out,  in  the  sec- 
ond, "the  sole  path  by  which,  in  his  judgment,  extrica- 
tion is  possible."  Mr.  Huxley's  essay,  then,  falls  evi- 
dently into  two  parts ;  and  of  these  two  parts  we  may 
say,  further,  that  while  the  one — that  in  which  he  leads 
us  into  materialism — will  be  predominatingly  physiolog- 
ical, the  other — or  that  in  which  he  leads  us  out 
of  materialism — will  be  predominatingly  philosophical. 


(  ii  )  83 

Two  corresponding  parts  would  thus  seem  to  be  pre- 
scribed to  any  full  discussion  of  the  essay ;  and  of 
these,  in  the  present  needs  of  the  world,  it  is  evidently 
the  latter  that  has  the  more  promising  theme.  The 
truth  is,  however,  that  Mr.  Huxley,  after  having  exerted 
all  his  strength  in  his  first  part  to  throw  us  into  "  the 
materialistic  slough,"  by  dear  necessity  of  knowledge, 
only  calls  to  us,  in  his  second  part,  to  come  out  of  this 
slough  again,  on  the  somewhat  obscure  necessity  of  igno- 
rance. This,  then,  is  but  a  lop-sided  balance,  where  a 
scale  in  the  air  only  seems  to  struggle  vainly  to  raise 
its  well-weighted  fellow  on  the  ground.  Mr.  Huxley, 
in  fact,  possesses  no  remedy  for  materialism  but  what 
lies  in  the  expression  that,  while  he  knows  not  what 
matter  is  in  itself,  he  certainly  knows  that  casualty  is 
but  contingent  succession ;  and  thus,  like  the  so-called 
"  philosophy"  of  the  Revulsion,  Mr.  Huxley  would  only 
mock  us  into  the  intensest  dogmatism  on  the  one  side 
by  a  fallacious  reference  to  the  intensest  scepticism  on 
the  other. 

The  present  paper,  then,  will  regard  mainly  Mr.  Hux- 
ley's argument /#/- materialism,  but  say  what  is  required, 
at  the  same  time,  on  his  alleged  argument — which  is 
merely  the  imaginary,  or  imaginative,  impregnation  of 
ignorance — against  it. 

Following  Mr.  Huxley's  own  steps  in  his  essay,  the 
course  of  his  positions  will  be  found  to  run,  in  sum- 
mary, thus  : — 

What  is  meant  by  the  physical  basis  of  life  is,  that 
there  is  one  kind  of  matter  common  to  all  living  beings, 
and  it  is  named  protoplasm.  No  doubt  it  may  appear 
at  first  sight  that,  in  the  various  kinds  of  living  beings, 
we  have  only  difference  before  us,  as  in  the  lichen  on  the 


84  (  12  ) 

rock  and  the  painter  that  paints  it, — the  microscopic 
animalcule  or  fungus  and  the  Finner  whale  or  Indian 
fig, — the  flower  in  the  hair  of  a  girl  and  the  blood  in  her 
veins,  etc.  Nevertheless,  throughout  these  and  all  other 
diversities,  there  really  exists  a  threefold  unity — a  unity 
of  faculty,  a  unity  of  form,  and  a  unity  of  substance. 

On  the  first  head,  for  example,  or  as  regards  faculty, 
power,  the  action  exhibited,  there  «are  but  three  catego- 
ries of  human  activity — contractility,  alimentation,  and 
reproduction  ;  and  there  are  no  fewer  for  the  lower  forms 
of  life,  whether  animal  or  vegetable.  In  the  nettle,  for 
instance,  we  find  the  woody  case  of  its  sting  lined  by  a 
granulated,  semi-fluid  layer,  that  is  possessed  of  con- 
tractility. But  in  this  respect — that  is,  in  the  posses- 
sion of  contractile  substance — other  plants  are  as  the 
nettle,  and  all  animals  are  as  plants.  Protoplasm — for 
the  nettle-layer  alluded  to  is  protoplasm — is  common 
to  the  whole  of  them.  The  difference,  in  short  between 
the  powers  of  the  lowest  plant  or  animal  and  those  of 
the  highest  is  one  only  of  degree  and  not  of  kind. 

But,  on  the  second  head,  it  is  not  otherwise  in  form, 
or  manifested  external  appearance  and  structure.  Not 
the  sting  only,  but  the  whole  nettle,  is  made  up  of  pro- 
toplasm ;  and  of  all  the  other  vegetables  the  nettle  is 
but  a  type.  Nor  are  animals  different.  The  colorless 
blood-corpuscles  in  man  and  the  rest  are  identical  with 
the  protoplasm  of  the  nettle ;  and  both  he  and  they 
consisted  at  first  only  of  an  aggregation  of  such.  Pro- 
toplasm is  the  common  constituent — the  common  origin. 
At  last,  as  at  first,  all  that  lives,  and  every  part  of  all 
that  lives,  are  but  nucleated  or  unnucleated,  modified 
or  unmodified,  protoplasm. 

But,  on  the  third  head,  or  with  reference  to  unity  of 


( '3  )  85 

substance,  to  internal  composition,  chemistry  establishes 
this  also.  All  forms  of  protoplasm,  that  is,  consist 
alike  of  carbon,  hydrogen,  oxygen,  and  nitrogen,  and 
behave  similarly  under  similar  reagents. 

So,  now,  a  uniform  character  having  in  this  threefold 
manner  been  proved  for  protoplasm,  what  is  its  origin, 
and  what  its  fate  ?  Of  these  the  latter  is  not  far  to 
seek.  The  fate  of  protoplasm  is  death — death  into  its 
chemical  constituents ;  and  this  determines  its  origin 
also.  Protoplasm  can  originate  only  in  that  into  which 
it  dies, — the  elements — the  carbon,  hydrogen,  oxygen, 
and  nitrogen — of  which  it  was  found  to  consist.  Hydro- 
gen, with  oxygen,  forms  water;  carbon,  with  oxygen, 
carbonic  acid ;  and  hydrogen,  with  nitrogen,  ammonia. 
Similarly,  water,  carbonic  acid  and  ammonia  form,  in 
union,  protoplasm.  The  influence  of  pre-existing  pro- 
toplasm only  determines  combination  in  its  case,  as  that 
of  the  electric  spark  determines  combination  in  the 
case  of  water.  Protoplasm,  then,  is  but  an  aggregate 
of  physical  materials,  exhibiting  in  combination — only 
as  was  to  be  expected — new  properties.  The  proper- 
ties of  water  are  not  more  different  from  those  of 
hydrogen  and  oxygen  than  the  properties  of  protoplasm 
are  different  from  those  of  water,  carbonic  acid,  and 
ammonia.  We  have  the  same  warrant  to  attribute  the 
consequences  to  the  premises  in  the  one  case  as  in  the 
other.  If,  on  the  first  stage  of  combination,  repre- 
sented by  that  of  water,  simples  could  unite  into  some- 
thing so  different  from  themselves,  why,  on  the  second 
stage  of  combination,  represented  by  that  of  proto- 
plasm, should  not  compounds  similarly  unite  into  some- 
thing equally  different  from  themselves  ?  If  the  con- 
stituents are  credited  with  the  properties  there,  why 


86  (  i4  ) 

refuse  to  credit  the  constituents  with  the  properties 
here  ?  To  the  constituents  of  protoplasm,  in  truth,  any 
new  element,  named  vitality,  has  no  more  been  added, 
than  to  the  constituents  of  water  any  new  element, 
named  aquosity.  Nor  is  there  any  logical  halting-place 
between  this  conclusion  and  the  further  and  final  one : 
That  all  vital  action  whatever,  intellectual  included,  is 
but  the  result  of  the  molecular  forces  of  the  protoplasm 
which  displays  it. 

These  sentences  will  be  acknowledged,  I  think,  fairly 
to  represent  Mr.  Huxley's  relative  deliverances,  and, 
consequently,  as  I  may  be  allowed  to  explain  again,  the 
only  important — while  much  the  larger — part  of  the 
whole  essay.  Mr.  Huxley,  that  is,  while  devoting  fifty 
paragraphs  to  our  physiological  immersion  in  the  "  mate- 
rialistic slough,"  grants  but  one-and  twenty  towards  our 
philosophical  escape  from  it ;  the  fifty  besides  being,  so 
to  speak,  in  reality  the  wind,  and  the  one-and-twenty 
only  the  whistle  for  it.  What  these  latter  say,  in  effect, 
is  no  more  than  this,  that, — matter  being  known  not  in 
itself  but  only  in  its  qualities,  and  cause  and  effect  not 
in  their  nexus  but  only  in  their  sequence, — matter  may 
be  spirit  or  spirit  matter,  cause  effect  or  effect  cause — in 
short,  for  aught  that  Mr.  Huxley  more  than  phenome- 
nally knows,  this  may  be  that  or  that  this,  first  second, 
or  second  first,  but  the  conclusion  shall  be  this,  that  he 
will  lay  out  all  our  knowledge  materially,  and  we  may 
lay  out  all  our  ignorance  immaterially — if  we  will. 
Which  reasoning  and  conclusion,  I  may  merely  remark, 
come  precisely  to  this :  That  Mr.  Huxley — who,  hoping 
yet  to  see  each  object  (a  pin,  say)  not  in  its  qualities 
but  in  itself,  still,  consistently  antithetic,  cannot  believe 
in  the  extinction  of  fire  by  water  or  of  life  by  the  rope, 


(iS)  8? 

for  any  reason  or  for  any  necessity  that  lies  in  the  nature 
of  the  case,  but  simply  for  the  habit  of  the  thing — has 
not  yet  put  himself  at  home  with  the  metaphysical  cate- 
gories of  substance  and  casualty ;  thanks,  perhaps,  to 
those  guides  of  .his  whom  we,  the  amusing  Britons  that 
we  are,  bravely  proclaim  "  the  foremost  thinkers  of  the 
day"  J 

The  matter  and  manner  of  the  whole  essay  are  now 
fairly  before  us,  and  I  think  that,  with  the  approbation 
of  the  reader,  its  procedure,  generally,  may  be  described 
as  an  attempt  to  establish,  not  by  any  complete  and 
systematic  induction,  but  by  a  variety  of  partial  and 
illustrative  assertions,  two  propositions.  Of  these 
propositions  the  first  is,  That  all  animal  and  vegetable 
organisms  are  essentially  alike  in  power,  in  form,  and 
in  substance ;  and  the  second,  That  all  vital  and  intel- 
lectual functions  are  the  properties  of  the  molecular 
disposition  and  changes  of  the  material  basis  (proto- 
plasm) of  which  the  various  animals  and  vegetables 
consist.  In  both  propositions,  the  agent  of  proof  is 
this  same  alleged  material  basis  of  life,  or  protoplasm. 
For  the  first  of  them,  all  animal  and  vegetable  organ- 
isms shall  be  identified  in  protoplasm  ;  and  for  the  sec- 
ond, a  simple  chemical  analogy  shall  assign  intellect 
and  vitality  to  the  molecular  constituents  of  the  proto- 
plasm, in  connection  with  which  they  are  at  least  ex- 
hibited. 

In  order,  then,  to  obtain  a  footing  on  the  ground 
offered  us,  the  first  question  we  naturally  put  is,  What 
is  Protoplasm  ?  And  an  answer  to  this  question  can  be 
obtained  only  by  a  reference  to  the  historical  progress 
of  the  physiological  cell  theory. 

That  theory  may  be  said  to  have  wholly  grown  up 


88  (  16  ) 

since  John  Hunter  wrote  his  celebrated  work  '  On  the 
Nature  of  the  Blood,'  etc.  New  growths,  to  Hunter, 
depended  on  an  exudation  of  the  plasma  of  the  blood, 
in  which,  by  virtue  of  its  own  plasticity,  vessels  formed, 
and  conditioned  the  further  progress.  The  influence  of 
these  ideas  seems  to  have  still  acted,  even  after  a  con- 
ception of  the  cell  was  arrived  at.  For  starting  element, 
Schleiden  required  an  intracellular  plasma,  and  Schwann 
a  structureless  exudation,  in  which  minute  granules,  if 
not  indeed  already  pre- existent,  formed,  and  by  aggre- 
gation grew  into  nuclei,  round  which  singly  the  produc- 
tion of  a  membrane  at  length  enclosed  a  cell.  It  was 
then  that,  in  this  connection,  we  heard  of  the  terms 
blastema  and  cyto-blastema.  The  theory  of  the  vege- 
table cell  was  completed  earlier  than  that  of  the  animal 
one.  Completion  of  this  latter,  again,  seems  to  have 
been  first  effected  by  Schwann,  after  Miiller  had  insisted 
on  the  analogy  between  animal  and  vegetable  tissue, 
and  Valentin  had  demonstrated  a  nucleus  in  the  animal 
cell,  as  previously  Brown  in  the  vegetable  one.  But 
assuming  Schwann's  labor,  and  what  surrounded  it,  to 
have  been  a  first  stage,  the  wonderful  ability  of  Virchow 
may  be  said  to  have  raised  the  theory  of  the  cell  fully 
to  a  second  stage.  Now,  of  this  second  stage,  it  is  the 
dissolution  or  resolution  that  has  led  to  the  emergence 
of  the  word  Protoplasm. 

The  body,  to  Virchow,  constituted  a  free  state  of  in- 
dividual subjects,  with  equal  rights  but  unequal  capaci- 
ties. These  were  the  cells,  which  consisted  each  of 
an  enclosing  membrane,  and  an  enclosed  nucleus  with 
surrounding  intracellular  matrix  or  matter.  These 
cells,  further,  propagated  themselves,  chiefly  by  partition 
or  division  ;  and  the  fundamental  principle  of  the  whole 


theory  was  expressed  in  the  dictum,  "  Omnis  cellula  e 
cellula"  That  is,  the  nucleus,  becoming  gradually  elon- 
gated, at  last  parted  in  the  midst ;  and  each  half,  acting 
as  center  of  attraction  to  the  surrounding  intracellular 
matrix  or  contained  matter,  stood  forth  as  a  new 
nucleus  to  a  new  cell,  formed  by  division  at  length  of 
the  original  cell. 

The  first  step  taken  in  resolution  of  this  theory  was 
completed  by  Max  Schultze,  preceded  by  Leydig.  This 
was  the  elimination  of  an  investing  membrane.  Such 
membrane  may,  and  does,  ultimately  form  ;  but  in  the 
first  instance,  it  appears,  the  cell  is  naked.  The  second 
step  in  the  resolution  belongs  perhaps  to  Briicke,  though 
preceded  by  Bergmann,  and  though  Max  Schultze, 
Kiihne,  Haeckel,  and  others  ought  to  be  mentioned  in 
the  same  connection.  This  step  was  the  elimination, 
or  at  least  subordination,  of  the  nucleus.  The  nucleus, 
we  are  to  understand  now,  is  necessary  neither  to  the 
division  nor  to  the  existence  of  the  cell. 

Thus,  then,  stripped  of  its  membrane,  relieved  of  its 
nucleus,  what  now  remains  for  the  cell  ?  Why,  nothing 
but  what  was  the  contained  matter,  the  intracellular 
matrix,  and  is — Protoplasm. 

In  the  application  of  this  word  itself,  however,  to  the 
element  in  question,  there  are  also  a  step  or  two  to  be 
noticed.  The  first  step  was  Dujardin's  discovery  of  sar- 
code  ;  and  the  second  the  introduction  of  the  term  pro- 
toplasm as  the  name  for  the  layer  of  the  vegetable  cell 
that  lined  the  cellulose,  and  enclosed  the  nucleus.  Sar- 
code,  found  in  certain  of  the  lower  forms  of  life,  was  a 
simple  substance  that  exhibited  powers  of  spontaneous 
contraction  and  movement.  Thus,  processes  of  such 
simple,  soft,  contractile  matter  are  protruded  by  the 


90  (  i8  ) 

rhizopods,  and  locomotion  by  their  means  effected. 
Remak  first  extended  the  use  of  the  term  protoplasm 
from  the  layer  which  bore  that  name  in  the  vegetable 
cell  to  the  analogous  element  in  the  animal  cell ;  but  it 
was  Max  Schultze,  in  particular,  who,  by  applying  the 
name  to  the  intracellular  matrix,  or  contained  matter, 
when  divested  of  membrane,  and  by  identifying  this 
substance  itself  with  sarcode,  first  fairly  established  pro- 
toplasm, name  and  thing,  in  its  present  prominence. 

In  this  account  I  have  necessarily  omitted  many  sub- 
ordinate and  intervening  steps  in  the  successive  estab- 
lishment of  the  contractility,  superior  importance,  and 
complete  isolation  of  this  thing  to  which,  under  the 
name  of  protoplasm,  Mr.  Huxley  of  late  has  called 
such  vast  attention.  Besides  the  names  mentioned, 
there  are  others  of  great  eminence  in  this  connection, 
such  as  Meyen,  Siebold,  Reichert,  Ecker,  Henle,  and 
Kolliker  among  the  Germans ;  and  among  ourselves, 
Beale  and  Huxley  himself.  John  Goodsir  will  be  men- 
tioned again. 

We  have  now,  perhaps,  obtained  a  general  idea  of 
protoplasm.  Briicke,  when  he  talks  of  it  as  "living 
cell-body  or  elementary  organism,"  comes  very  near  the 
leading  idea  of  Mr.  Huxley  as  expressed  in  his  phrase, 
"the  physiological  basis,  or  matter,  of  life."  Living 
cell-body,  elementary  organism,  primitive  living  matter 
— that,  evidently,  is  the  quest  of  Mr.  Huxley.  There  is 
aqueous  matter,  he  would  say,  perhaps,  composed  of 
hydrogen  and  oxygen,  and  it  is  the  same  thing  whether 
in  the  rain-drop  or  the  ocean ;  so,  similarly,  there  is 
vital  matter,  which,  composed  of  carbon,  hydrogen,  oxy- 
gen, and  nitrogen,  is  the  same  thing  whether  in  crypto- 
gams or  in  elephants,  in  animalcules  or  in  men.  What, 


in  fact,  Mr.  Huxley  seeks,  probably,  is  living  protein- 
protein,  so  to  speak,  struck  into  life.  Just  such  appears 
to  him  to  be  the  nature  of  protoplasm,  and  in  it  he  be- 
lieves himself  to  possess  at  last  a  living  clay  wherewith 
to  build  the  whole  organic  world. 

The  question,  What  is  Protoplasm  ?  is  answered, 
then  ;  but,  for  the  understanding  of  what  is  to  follow, 
there  is  still  one  general  consideration  to  be  premised. 

Mr.  Huxley's  conception  of  protoplasm,  as  we  have 
seen,  is  that  of  living  matter,  living  protein ;  what  we 
may  call,  perhaps,  elementary  life-stuff.  Now,  is  it 
quite  certain  that  Mr.  Huxley  is  correct  in  this  concep- 
tion ?  Are  we  to  understand,  for  example,  that  cells 
have  now  definitively  vanished,  and  left  in  their  place 
only  a  uniform  and  universal  matter  of  quite  indefinite 
proportions  ?  No ;  such  an  understanding  would  be 
quite  wrong.  Whatever  may  be  the  opinion  of  the  ad- 
herents of  the  molecular  theory  of  generation,  it  is  cer- 
tain that  all  the  great  German  histologists  still  hold  by 
the  cell,  and  can  hardly  open  their  mouths  without  men- 
tion of  it.  I  do  not  allude  here  to  any  special  adhe- 
rents of  either  nucleus  or  membrane,  but  to  the  most 
advanced  innovators  in  both  respects ;  to  such  men  as 
Schultze  and  Briicke  and  Kiihne.  These,  as  we  have 
seen,  pretty  well  confine  their  attention,  like  Mr.  Hux- 
ley, to  the  protoplasm.  But  they  do  not  the  less  on 
that  account  talk  of  the  cell.  For  them,  it  is  only  in 
cells  that  protoplasm  exists.  To  their  view,  we  cannot 
fancy  protoplasm  as  so  much  matter  in  a  pot,  in  an  oint- 
ment-box, any  portion  of  which  scooped  out  in  an  ear- 
picker  would  be  so  much  life-stuff,  and,  though  a  part, 
quite  as  good  as  the  whole.  This  seems  to  be  Mr. 
Huxley's  conception,  but  it  is  not  theirs.  A  certain 


93  (   20  ) 

meastire  goes  with  protoplasm  to  constitute  it  an  organ- 
ism to  them,  and  worthy  of  their  attention.  They  re- 
fuse to  give  consideration  to  any  mere  protoplasm-j/zra/ 
that  may  not  have  yet  ceased,  perhaps,  to  exhibit  all 
sign  of  contractility  under  the  microscope,  and  demand 
a  protoplasm-^//.  In  short,  protoplasm  is  to  them  still 
distributed  into  cells,  and  only  that  measure  of  proto- 
plasm is  cell  that  is  adequate  to  the  whole  group  of 
vital  manifestations.  Briicke,  for  example,  of  all  inno- 
vators probably  the  most  innovating,  and  denying,  or 
inclined  to  deny,  both  nucleus  and  membrane,  does  not 
hesitate,  according  to  Strieker,  to  speak  still  of  cells  as 
self-complete  organisms,  that  move  and  grow,  that  nour- 
ish and  reproduce  themselves,  and  that  perform  specific 
function.  "  Omnis  cellula  e  cellula,"  is  the  rubric  they 
work  under  as  much  now  as  ever.  The  heart  of  a  turtle, 
they  say,  is  not  a  turtle  ;  so  neither  is  a  protoplasm- 
shred  a  protoplasm-cell. 

This,  then,  is  the  general  consideration  which  I  think 
it  necessary  to  premise  ;  and  it  seems,  almost  of  itself, 
to  negate  Mr.  Huxley's  reasonings  in  advance,  for  it 
warrants  us  in  denying  that  physiological  clay  of  which 
all  living  things  are  but  bricks  baked,  Mr.  Huxley  inti- 
mates, and  in  establishing  in  its  place  cells  as  before — 
living  cells  that  differ  infinitely  the  one  from  the  other, 
and  so  differ  from  the  very  first  moment  of  their  exist- 
ence. This  consideration  shall  not  be  allowed  to  pre- 
termit, however,  an  examination  of  Mr.  Huxley's  own 
proofs,  which  will  only  the  more  and  more  avail  to  indi- 
cate the  difference  suggested. 

These  proofs,  as  has  been  said,  would,  by  means  of 
the  single  fulcrum  of  protoplasm,  establish,  first,  the 
identity,  and,  second,  the  materiality,  of  all  vegetable 


(21)  93 

and  animal  life.  These  are,  shortly,  the  two  proposi- 
tions which  we  have  already  seen,  and  to  which,  in  their 
order,  we  now  pass. 

All  organisms,  then,  whether  animal  or  vegetable, 
have  been  understood  for  some  time  back  to  originate 
in  and  consist  of  cells  ;  but  the  progress  of  physiology 
has  seemed  now  to  substitute  for  cells  a  single  matter  of 
life,  protoplasm  ;  and  it  is  here  that  Mr.  Huxley  sees  his 
cue.  Mr.  Huxley's  very  first  word  is  the  "  physical  basis 
or  matter  of  life  ;"  and  he  supposes  "  that  to  many  the 
idea  that  there  is  such  a  thing  may  be  novel."  This,  then, 
so  far,  is  what  is  new  in  Mr.  Huxley's  contribution.  He 
seems  to  have  said  to  himself,  if  formerly  the  whole 
world  was  thought  kin  in  an  "ideal"  or  formal  element, 
organization,  I  shall  now  finally  complete  this  identifi- 
cation in  a  "  physical "  or  material  element,  protoplasm. 
In  short,  what  at  this  stage  we  are  asked  to  witness  in 
the  essay  is,  the  identification  of  all  living  beings  what- 
ever in  the  identity  of  protoplasm.  As  there  is  a 
single  matter,  clay,  which  is  the  matter  of  all  bricks,  so 
there  is  a  single  matter,  protoplasm,  which  is  the  matter 
of  all  organisms.  "  Protoplasm  is  the  clay  of  the  pot- 
ter, which,  bake  it  and  paint  it  as  he  will,  remains  clay, 
separated  by  artifice,  and  not  by  nature,  from  the  com- 
monest brick  or  sun-dried  clod."  Now  here  I  cannot 
help  stopping  a  moment  to  remark  that  Mr.  Huxley 
puts  emphatically  his  whole  soul  into  this  sentence,  and 
evidently  believes  it  to  be,  if  we  may  use  the  word,  a 
clincher.  But,  after  all,  does  it  say  much?  or  rather, 
does  it  say  anything  ?  To  the  question,  "  Of  what  are 
you  made  ?"  the  answer,  for  a  long  time  now,  and  by 
the  great  mass  of  human  beings  who  are  supposed  civi- 
lized, has  been  "Dust."  Dust,  and  the  same  dust,  has 


94  ( 22   ) 

been  allowed  to  constitute  us  all.  But  materialism  ^has 
not  on  that  account  been  the  irresistible  result.  Atten- 
tion hitherto — and  surely  excusably,  or  even  laudably  in 
such  a  case — has  been  given  not  so  much  to  the  dust  as 
to  the  "potter,"  and  the  "artifice"  by  which  he  could 
so  transform,  or,  as  Mr.  Huxley  will  have  it,  modify  it. 
To  ask  us  to  say,  instead  of  dust,  clay,  or  even  proto- 
plasm, is  not  to  ask  us  for  much,  then,  seeing  that  even 
to  Mr.  Huxley  there  still  remain  both  the  "potter"  and 
his  "artifice." 

But  to  return  :  To  Mr.  Huxley,  when  he  says  all 
bricks,  being  made  of  clay,  are  the  same  thing,  we  an- 
swer, Yes,  undoubtedly,  if  they  are  made  of  the  same 
clay.  That  is,  the  bricks  are  identical  if  the  clay  is 
identical ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  by  as  much  as  the 
clay  differs  will  the  bricks  differ.  And,  similarly,  all 
organisms  can  be  identified  only  if  their  composing  pro- 
toplasm can  be  identified.  To  this  stake  is  the  argu- 
ment of  Mr.  Huxley  bound. 

This  argument  itself  takes,  as  we  have  seen,  a  three- 
fold course  :  Mr.  Huxley  will  prove  his  position  in  this 
place  by  reference,  firstly,  to  unity  of  faculty  ;  secondly, 
to  unity  of  form  ;  and  thirdly,  to  unity  of  substance.  It 
is  this  course  of  proof,  then,  which  we  have  now  to  fol- 
low, but  taking  the  question  of  substance,  as  simplest, 
first,  and  the  others  later. 

By  substance,  Mr.  Huxley  understands  the  internal 
or  chemical  composition  ;  and,  with  a  mere  reference  to 
the  action  of  reagents,  he  asserts  the  protoplasm  of  all 
living  beings  to  be  an  identical  combination  of  carbon, 
hydrogen,  oxygen,  and  nitrogen.  It  is  for  us  to  ask, 
then,  Are  all  samples  of  protoplasm  identical,  first,  in 
their  chemical  composition,  and,  second,  under  the  ac- 
tion of  the  various  reagents  ? 


(  23  )  9$ 

f- 

On  the  first  clause,  we  may  say,  in  the  first  place,  to- 
wards a  proof  of  difference  which  will  only  cumulate,  I 
hope,  that,  even  should  we  grant  in  all  protoplasm  an 
identity  of  chemical  ingredients,  what  is  called  Allotropy 
may  still  have  introduced  no  inconsiderable  variety. 
Ozone  is  not  antozone,  nor  is  oxygen  either,  though  in 
chemical  constitution  all  are  alike.  In  the  second 
place,  again,  we  may  say  that,  with  varying  proportions, 
the  same  component  parts  produce  very  various  results. 
By  way  of  illustration,  it  will  suffice  to  refer  to  such  dif- 
ferent things  as  the  proteids,  gluten,  albumen,  fibrin, 
gelatine,  etc.,  compared  with  the  urinary  products,  urea 
and  uric  acid;  or  with  the  biliary  products,  glycocol, 
glycocolic  acid,  bili-rubin,  bili-verdin,  etc. ;  and  yet  all 
these  substances,  varying  so  much  the  one  from  the 
other,  are,  as  protoplasm  is,  compounds  of  carbon,  hy- 
drogen, oxygen,  and  nitrogen.  But,  in  the  third  place, 
we  are  not  limited  to  a  may  say ;  we  can  assert  the  fact 
that  all  protoplasm  is  not  chemically  identical.  All  the 
tissues  of  the  organism  are  called  protoplasm  by  Mr. 
Huxley  ;  but  can  we  predicate  chemical  identity  of 
muscle  and  bone,  for  example  ?  In  such  cases  Mr. 
Huxley,  it  is  true,  may  bring  the  word  "  modified  "  into 
use  ;  but  the  objection  of  modification  we  shall  examine 
later.  In  the  mean  time,  we  are  justified,  by  Mr.  Hux- 
ley's very  argument,  in  regarding  all  organized  tissues 
whatever  as  protoplasm  ;  for  if  these  tissues  are  not  to 
be  identified  in  protoplasm,  we  must  suppose  denied 
what  it  was  his  one  business  to  affirm.  And  it  is 
against  that  affirmation  that  we  point  to  the  fact  of 
much  chemical  difference  obtaining  among  the  tissues, 
not  only  in  the  proportions  of  their  fundamental  ele- 
ments, but  also  in  the  addition  (and  proportions  as  well) 


96  (  24  ) 

of  such  others  as  chlorine,  sulphur,  phosphorus,  potass, 
soda,  lime,  magnesia,  iron,  etc.  Vast  differences  vitally 
must  be  legitimately  assumed  for  tissues  that  are  so  dif- 
ferent chemically.  But,  in  the  fourth  place,  we  have  the 
authority  of  the  Germans  for  asserting  that  the  cells 
themselves — and  they  now,  to  the  most  advanced,  are 
only  protoplasm  —  do  differ  chemically,  some  being 
found  to  contain  glycogen,  some  cholesterine,  some  pro- 
togon,  and  some  inyosin.  Now  such  substances,  let  the 
chemical  analogy  be  what  it  may,  must  still  be  allowed 
to  introduce  chemical  difference.  In  the  last  place,  Mr. 
Huxley's  analysis  is  an  analysis  of  dead  protoplasm,  and 
indecisive,  consequently,  for  that  which  lives.  Mr.  Hux- 
ley betrays  sensitiveness  in  advance  to  this  objection  ; 
for  he  seeks  to  rise  above  the  sensitiveness  and  the  ob- 
jection at  once  by  styling  the  latter  "  frivolous."  Never- 
theless the  Germans  say  pointedly  that  it  is  unknown 
whether  the  same  elements  are  to  be  referred  to  the 
cells  after  as  before  death.  Kiihne  does  not  consider 
it  proved  that  living  muscle  contains  syntonin  ;  yet  Mr. 
Huxley  tells  us,  in  his  Physiology,  that  "  syntonin  is  the 
chief  constituent  of  muscle  and  flesh."  In  general,  we 
may  say,  according  to  Strieker,  that  all  weight  is  put 
now  on  the  examination  of  living  tissue,  and  that  the 
difference  is  fully  allowed  between  that  and  dead  tissue. 
On  the  second  clause  now,  or  with  regard  to  the  ac- 
tion of  reagents,  these  must  be  denied  to  produce  the 
like  result  on  the  various  forms  of  protoplasm.  With 
reference  to  temperature,  for  example,  Kiihne  reports 
the  movements  of  the  amoeba  to  be  arrested  in  iced 
water ;  while,  in  the  same  medium,  the  ova  of  the  trout 
furrow  famously,  but  perish  even  in  a  warmed  room. 
Others,  again,  we  are  told,  may  be  actually  dried,  and 


(  *5  )  97 

yet  live.  Of  ova  in  general,  in  this  connection,  it  i$ 
said  that  they  live  or  die  according  as  the  temperature 
to  which  they  are  exposed  differs  little  or  much  from 
that  which  is  natural  to  the  organisms  producing  them. 
In  some,  according  to  Max  Schultze,  even  distilled 
water  is  enough  to  arrest  movement.  Now,  not  to 
dwell  longer  here,  both  amoeba  and  ova  are  to  Mr. 
Huxley  pure  protoplasm ;  and  such  difference  of  result, 
according  to  difference  of  temperature,  etc.,  must  as- 
suredly be  allowed  to  point  to  a  difference  of  original 
nature.  Any  conclusion  so  far,  then,  in  regard  to  unity 
of  substance,  whether  the  chemical  composition  or  the 
action  of  reagents  be  considered,  cannot  be  said  to  bear 
out  the  views  of  Mr.  Huxley. 

What  now  of  the  unities  of  form  and  power  in  proto- 
plasm ?  By  form,  Mr.  Huxley  will  be  found  to  mean 
the  general  appearance  and  structure  ;  and  by  faculty 
or  power,  the  action  exhibited.  Now  it  will  be  very 
easy  to  prove  that,  in  neither  respect,  do  all  specimens 
of  protoplasm  agree.  Mr.  Huxley's  representative  pro- 
toplasm, it  appears,  is  that  of  the  nettle-sting ;  and  he 
describes  it  as  a  granulated,  semi-fluid  body,  contractile 
in  mass,  and  contractile  also  in  detail  to  the  develop- 
ment of  a  species  of  circulation.  Strieker,  again, 
speaks  of  it  as  a  homogeneous  substance,  in  which  any 
granules  that  may  appear  must  be  considered  of  foreign 
importation,  and  in  which  there  are  no  evidences  of  cir- 
culation. In  this  last  respect,  then,  that  Mr.  Huxley 
should  talk  of  "  tiny  Maelstroms,"  such  as  even  in  the 
silence  of  a  tropical  noon  might  stun  us,  if  heard,  as 
"  with  the  roar  of  a  great  city,"  may  be  viewed,  per- 
haps, as  a  rise  into  poetry  beyond  the  occasion. 

Further,  according  to  Strieker,  protoplasm  varies  ak 


98  (  26  ) 

most  infinitely  in  consistence,  in  shape,  in  structure,  and 
in  function.  In  consistence,  it  is  sometimes  so  fluid  as 
to  be  capable  of  forming  in  drops  ;  sometimes  semi- 
fluid and  gelatinous  ;  sometimes  of  considerable  resist- 
ance. In  shape — for  to  Strieker  the  cells  are  now  pro- 
toplasm— we  have  club-shaped  protoplasm,  globe-shaped 
protoplasm,  cup-shaped  protoplasm,  bottle-shaped  proto- 
plasm, spindle-shaped  protoplasm — branched,  threaded, 
ciliated  protoplasm,  —  circle-headed  protoplasm  —  flat, 
conical,  cylindrical,  longitudinal,  prismatic,  polyhedral, 
and  palisade-like  protoplasm.  In  structure,  again,  it  is 
sometimes  uniform  and  sometimes  reticulated  into  inter- 
spaces that  contain  fluid.  In  function,  lastly — and  here 
we  have  entered  on  the  consideration  of  faculty  or  power 
— some  protoplasm  is  vagrant  (so  to  translate  wan- 
dernd),  and  of  unknown  use,  like  the  colorless  blood- 
corpuscles. 

In  reference  to  these,  as  strengthening  the  argument, 
and  throwing  much  light  generally,  I  break  off  a  mo- 
ment to  say  that,  very  interesting  as  they  are  in  them- 
selves, and  as  Recklinghausen,  in  especial,  has  made 
them,  Mr.  Huxley's  theory  of  them  disagrees  consider- 
ably with  the  prevalent  German  one.  He  speaks  of 
them  as  the  source  of  the  body  in  general,  yet,  in  his 
Physiology,  he  talks  of  the  spleen,  the  lymphatics,  and 
even  the  liver— -parts  of  the  body — as  their  source. 
They  are  so  few  in  number  that,  while  Mr.  Huxley  is 
thankful  to  be  able  to  point  to  the  inside  of  the  lips  as 
a  seat  for  them,  they  bear  to  the  red  corpuscles  only 
the  proportion  of  i  to  450.  This  disproportion,  how- 
ever, is  no  bar  to  Mr.  Huxley's  derivation  of  the  latter 
from  the  former.  But  the  fact  is  questioned.  The 
Germans,  generally,  for  their,  part,  describe  the  color- 


(27)  99 

less,  or  vagrant,  blood-corpuscles  as  probably  media  of 
conjugation  or  reparation,  but  acknowledge  their  func- 
tion to  be  as  yet  quite  unknown  ;  while  Rindfleisch, 
characterizing  the  spleen  as  the  grave  of  the  red,  and 
the  womb  of  the  white,  corpuscles,  evidently  refers  the 
latter  to  the  former.  This,  indeed,  is  a  matter  of  direct 
assertion  with  Preyer,  who  has  "  shown  that  pieces  of 
red  blood-corpuscles  may  be  eaten  by  the  amoeboid  cells 
of  the  frog,"  and  holds  that  the  latter  (the  white  cor- 
puscles) proceed  directly  from  the  former  (the  red  cor- 
puscles) ;  so  that  it  seems  to  be  determined  in  the 
mean  time  that  there  is  no  proof  of  the  reverse  being 
the  fact. 

In  function,  then,  to  resume,  some  protoplasm  is  va- 
grant, and  of  unknown  use.  Some  again  produces  pep- 
sine,  and  some  fat.  Some  at  least  contains  pigment. 
Then  there  is  nerve-protoplasm,  brain-protoplasm,  bone- 
protoplasm,  muscle-protoplasm,  and  protoplasm  of  all 
the  other  tissues,  no  one  of  which  but  produces  only 
its  own  kind,  and  is  uninterchangeable  with  the  rest. 
Lastly,  on  this  head,  we  have  to  point  to  the  over- 
whelming fact  that  there  is  the  infinitely  different  pro- 
toplasm of  the  various  infinitely  different  plants  and 
animals,  in  each  of  which  its  own  protoplasm,  as  in  the 
case  of  that  of  the  various  tissues,  but  produces  its 
own  kind,  and  is  uninterchangeable  with  that  of  the 
rest. 

It  may  be  objected,  indeed,  that  these  latter  are  ex- 
amples of  modified  protoplasm.  The  objection  of 
modification,  as  said,  we  have  to  see  by  itself  later ; 
but,  in  the  mean  time,  it  may  be  asked,  Where  are  we 
to  begin,  not  to  have  modified  protoplasm  ?  We  have 
the  example  of  Mr.  Huxley  himself,  who,  in  the  nettle- 


100  (  28  ) 

sting,  begins  already  with  modified  protoplasm  ;  and 
we  have  the  authority  of  Rindfleisch  for  asserting  that 
"  in  every  different  tissue  we  must  look  for  a  different 
initial  term  of  the  productive  series."  This,  evidently, 
is  a  very  strong  light  on  the  original  multiplicity  of 
protoplasm,  which  the  consideration,  as  we  have  seen, 
of  the  various  plants  and  animals,  has  made,  further, 
infinite.  This  is  enough  ;  but  there  is  no  wish  to  evade 
beginning  with  the  very  beginning — with  absolutely 
pure  initial  protoplasm,  if  it  can  but  be  given  us  in  any 
reference.  The  simple  egg — that,  probably  is  the  be- 
ginning— that,  probably,  is  the  original  identity  ;  yet 
even  there  we  find  already  distribution  of  the  identity 
into  infinite  difference.  This,  certainly,  with  reference 
to  the  various  organisms,  but  with  reference  also  to  the 
various  tissues.  That  we  regard  the  egg  as  the  begin- 
ning, and  that  we  do  not  start,  like  the  smaller  excep- 
tional physiological  school,  with  molecules  themselves, 
depends  on  this,  that  the  great  Germans  so  often  allu- 
ded to,  Kiihne  among  them,  still  trust  in  the  experi- 
ments of  Pasteur ;  and  while  they  do  not  deny  the  pos- 
sibility, or  even  the  fact,  of  molecular  generation,  still 
feel  justified  in  denying  the  existence  of  any  observa- 
tion that  yet  unassailably  attests  a  generatio  cequivoca. 
By  such  authority  as  this  the  simple  philosophical  spec- 
tator has.  no  choice  but  to  take  his  stand  ;  and  therefore 
it  is  that  I  assume  the  egg  as  the  established  beginning, 
so  far,  of  all  vegetable  and  animal  organisms.  To  the 
egg,  too,  as  the  beginning,  Mr.  Huxley,  though  the 
lining  of  the  nettle-sting  is  his  representative  proto- 
plasm, at  least  refers.  "  In  the  earliest  condition  of 
the  human  organism,"  he  says,  in  allusion  to  the  white 
(vagrant)  corpuscles  of  the  blood,  "  in  that  state  in 


which  it  has  but  just  become  distinguished  from  the 
egg  in  which  it  arises,  it  is  nothing  but  an  aggregation 
of  such  corpuscles,  and  every  organ  of  the  body  was 
once  no  more  than  such  an  aggregation."  Now,  in  be- 
ginning with  the  egg — an  absolute  beginning  being  de- 
nied us  in  consequence  of  the  pre-existent  infinite 
difference  of  the  egg  or  eggs  themselves — we  may 
gather  from  the  German  physiologists  some  such  ac- 
count of  the  actual  facts  as  this. 

The  first  change  signalized  in  the  impregnated  egg 
seems  that  of  Furchung,  or  furrowing — what  the  Ger- 
mans call  the  Furchungskugeln,  the  Dotterkugeln,  form. 
Then  these  Kugeln — clumps,  eminences,  monticles,  we 
may  translate  the  word — break  into  cells ;  and  these 
are  the  cells  9f  the  embryo.  Mr.  Huxley,  as  quoted, 
refers  to  the  whole  body,  and  every  organ  of  the  body, 
as  at  first  but  an  aggregation  of  colorless  blood-cor- 
puscles ;  but  in  the  very  statement  which  would  render 
the  identity  alone  explicit,  the  difference  is  quite  as 
plainly  implicit.  As  much  as  this  lies  in  the  word  "  or- 
gans," to  say  nothing  qf  "human."  The  cells  of  the 
"  organs,"  to  which  he  refers,  are  even  then  uninter- 
changeable,  and  produce  but  themselves.  The  Ger- 
mans tell  us  of  the  Keimblatl,  the  germ-leaf,  in  which 
all  these  organs  originate.  This  Blatt,  or  leaf,  is  three- 
fold, it  seems ;  but  even  these  folds  are  not  indifferent. 
The  various  cells  have  their  distinct  places  in  them  from 
the  first.  While  what  in  this  connection  are  called  the 
epithelial  and  endorthelial  tissues  spring  respectively 
from  the  upper  and  under  leaf,  connective  tissues,  with 
muscle  and  blood,  spring  from  the  middle  one.  Surely 
in  such  facts  we  have  a  perfect  warrant  to  assert  the 
initial  non-identity  of  protoplasm,  and  to  insist  on  this, 


102  (  3o  ) 

that,  from  the  very  earliest  moment — even  literally  ab 
02)o— brain-cells  only  generate  brain-cells,  bone-cells 
bone-cells,  and  so  on. 

These  considerations  on  function  all  concern  faculty 
or  power  ;  but  we  have  to  notice  now  that  the  charac- 
teristic and  fundamental  form  of  power  is  to  Mr.  Huxley 
contractility.  He  even  quotes  Goethe  in  proof  of  con- 
tractility being  the  main  power  or  faculty  of  Man ! 
Nevertheless  it  is  to  be  said  at  once  that,  while  there 
are  differences  in  what  protoplasm  is  contractile,  all 
protoplasm  is  not  contractile,  nor  dependent  on  contrac- 
tility for  its  functions.  In  the  former  respect,  for  exam- 
ple, muscle,  while  it  is  the  contractile  tissue  special,  is 
also  to  Mr.  Huxley  protoplasm  ;  yet  Strieker  asserts 
the  inner  construction  of  the  contractile  substance,  of 
which  muscle-fibre  virtually  consists,  to  be  essentially 
different  from  contractile  protoplasm.  Here,  then,  we 
have  the  contractile  substance  proper  "  essentially  differ- 
ent" from  the  contractile  source  proper.  In  the  latter 
respect,  again,  we  shall  not  call  in  the  z/«contractible 
substances  which  Mr.  Huxley,  himself  denominates 
protoplasm — bread,  namely,  roast  mutton,  and  boiled 
lobster  ;  but  we  may  ask  where — even  in  the  case  of  a 
living  body — is  the  contractility  of  white  of  egg  ?  In 
this  reference,  too,  we  may  remark  that  Kiihne,  who  di- 
vides the  protoplasm  of  the  epidermis  into  three  clas- 
ses, has  been  unable  to  distinguish  contractility  in  his 
own  third  class.  Lastly,  where,  in  relation  to  the  pro- 
toplasm of  the  nervous  system,  is  there  evidence  of  its 
contractility  ?  Has  any  one  pretended  that  thought  is 
but  the  contraction  of  the  brain  ;  or  is  it  by  contraction 
that  the  very  nerves  operate  contraction — the  nerves 
that  supply  muscles,  namely  ?  Mr.  Huxley  himself,  in 


(3O  I03 

his  Physiology,  describes  nervous  action  very  differently. 
There  conduction  is  spoken  of  without  a  hint  of  contrac- 
tion. Of  the  higher  faculties  of  man  I  have  to  speak 
again ;  but  let  us  just  ask  where,  in  the  case  of  any 
pure  sensation — smell,  taste,  touch,  sound,  color — is 
there  proof  of  any  contraction  ?  Are  we  to  suppose 
that  between  the  physical  cause  of  heat  without  and  the 
mental  sensation  of  heat  within,  contraction  is  anywhere 
interpolated  ?  Generally,  in  conclusion  here,  while  re- 
minding of  Virchow's  testimony  to  the  inherent  ine- 
qualities of  cell-capacity,  let  us  but,  on  the  question  of 
faculty,  contrast  the  kidney  and  the  brain,  even  as  these 
organs  are  viewed  by  Mr.  Huxley.  To  him  the  one  is 
but  a  sieve  for  the  extrusion  of  refuse  :  the  other  thinks 
^^Newton's  '  Principia'  and  Iliads  of  Homer. 

Probably,  then,  in  regard  to  any  continuity  in  proto- 
plasm  of  power,  of  form,  or  of  substance,  we  have  seen 
lacuna  enow.  Nay,  Mr.  Huxley  himself  can  be  ad- 
duced in  evidence  on  the  same  side.  Not  rarely  do  we 
find  in  his  essay  admissions  of  probability  where  it  is 
certainty  that  is  alone  in  place.  He  says,  for  example, 
"  It  is  more  than  probable  that  when  the  vegetable  world 
is  thoroughly  explored  we  shall  find  all  plants  in  pos- 
session of  the  same  powers."  When  a  conclusion  is 
decidedly  announced,  it  is  rather  disappointing  to  be 
told,  as  here,  that  the  premises  are  still  to  collect^  "  So 
far"  he  says  again,  " as  the  conditions  of  the  manifes- 
tations of  the  phenomena  of  contractility  have  yet  been 
studied."  Now,  such  a  so  far  need  not  be  very  far ; 
and  we  may  confess  in  passing,  that  from  Mr.  Huxley 
the  phrase,  "  the  conditions  of  the  manifestations  of  the 
phenomena"  grates.  We  hear  again  that  it  is  "  the  rule 
rather  than  the,  exception,"  or  that  "  weighty  authorities 


104  (  32  ) 

have  suggested "  that  such  and  such  things  "  probably 
occur,"  or,  while  contemplating  the  nettle-sting,  that 
such  "possible  complexity"  in  other  cases  "dawns 
upon  one."  On  other  occasions  he  expresses  himself 
to  the  effect  that  "  perhaps  it  would  not  yet  be  safe  to 
say  that  all  forms,"  etc.  Nay,  not  only  does  he  directly 
say  that  "  it  is  by  no  means  his  intention  to  suggest 
that  there  is  no  difference  between  the  lowest  plant  and 
the  highest,  or  between  plants  and  animals,"  but  he  di- 
rectly proves  what  he  says,  for  he  demonstrates  in  plants 
and  animals  an  essential  difference  of  power.  Plants  can 
assimilate  inorganic  matters,  animals  can  not,  etc. 
Again,  here  is  a  passage  in  which  he  is  seen  to  cut  his 
own  "  basis"  from  beneath  his  own  feet.  After  telling 
us  that  all  forms  of  protoplasm  consist  of  carbon,  hy- 
drogen, oxygen,  and  nitrogen  "  in  very  complex  union," 
he  continues,  "  To  this  complex  combination,  the  nature 
of  which  has  never  been  determined  with  exactness,  the 
name  of  protein  has  been  applied."  This,  plainly,  is 
an  identification,  on  Mr.  Huxley's  own  part,  of  proto- 
plasm and  protein ;  and  what  is  said  of  the  one  being 
necessarily  true  of  the  other,  it  follows  that  Mr.  Huxley 
admits  the  nature  of  protoplasm  never  to  have  been 
determined  with  exactness,  and  that,  even  in  his  eyes, 
the  Its  is  still  sub  judice.  This  admission  is  strength- 
ened by  the  words,  too,  "  If  we  use  this  term"  (protein) 
"  with  such  caution  as  may  properly  arise  out  of  our  -> 
comparative  ignorance  of  the  things  for  which  it  stands  ;"  \ 
which  entitle  us  to  recommend,  in  consequence  "  of  our 
comparative  ignorance  of  the  things  for  which  it 
stands,"  "  caution"  in  the  use  of  the  term  protoplasm. 
In  such  a  state  of  the  case  we  cannot  wonder  that  Mr. 
Huxley's  own  conclusion  here  is  :  Therefore  "  all  living 


33  )  !°5 

matter  is  more  or  less  albuminoid."  All  living  matter 
is  more  or  less  albuminoid  !  That,  indeed,  is  the  single 
conclusion  of  Mr.  Huxley's  whole  industry ;  but  it  is  a 
conclusion  that,  far  from  requiring  the  intervention  of 
protoplasm,  had  been  reached  long  before  the  word 
itself  had  been,  in  this  connection,  used. 

It  is  in  this  way,  then,  that  Mr.  Huxley  can  be  ad- 
duced in  refutation  of  himself;  and  I  think  his  resort 
to  an  epigram  of  Goethe's  for  reduction  of  the  powers 
of  man  to  those  of  contraction,  digestion,  and  repro- 
duction, can  be  regarded  as  an  admission  to  the  same 
effect.  The  epigram  runs  thus  : — 

"  Warum  treibtsich  das  Volk  so,  undschreit  ?  Es  will  sich  ernahren, 
Kinder  zeugen,  und  die  nahren  so  gut  es  vermag. 
Weiter  bringt  es  kein  Mensch,  stell'  er  sich  wie  er  auch  will." 

That  means,  quite  literally  translated,  "  Why  do  the  * 
folks  bustle  and  bawl  ?  They  want  to  feed  themselves, 
get  children,  and  then  feed  them  as  best  they  can ;  no 
man  does  more,  let  him  do  as  he  may."  This,  really, 
is  Mr.  Huxley's  sole  proof  for  his  classification  of  the 
powers  of  man.  Is  it  sufficient  ?  Does  it  not  apply 
rather  to  the  birds  of  the  air,  the  fish  of  the  sea,  and 
the  beasts  of  the  field,  than  to  man  ?  Did  Newton  only 
feed  himself,  beget  children,  and  then  feed  them  ?  Was 
it  impossible  for  him  to  do  any  more,  let  him  do  as 
he  might  ?  And  what  we  ask  of  Newton  we  may  ask 
of  all  the  rest.  To  elevate,  therefore,  the  passing  whim 
of  mere  literary  Laune  into  a  cosmical  axiom  and  a 
proof  in  place — this  we  cannot  help  adding  to  the  other 
productions  here  in  which  Mr.  Huxley  appears  against 
himself. 

But  were  it  impossible  either  for  him  or  us  to  point 
to  these  lacuna,  it  would  still  be  our  right  and  our  duty 


106  (  34  ) 

to  refer  to  the  present  conditions  of  microscopic  sci- 
ence in  general  as  well  as  in  particular,  and  to  demur 
to  the  erection  of  its  dicta,  constituted  as  they  yet  are, 
into  established  columns  and  buttresses  in  support  of 
any  theory  of  life,  material  or  other. 

The  most  delicate  and  dubious  of  all  the  sciences,  it 
is  also  the  youngest.  In  its  manipulations  the  slightest 
change  may  operate  as  a  destructive  drought,  or  an 
equally  destructive  deluge.  Its  very  tools  may  posi- 
tively create  the  structure  it  actually  examines.  The 
present  state  of  the  science,  and  what  warrant  it  gives 
Mr.  Huxley  to  dogmatize  on  protoplasm,  we  may  under- 
stand from  this  avowal  of  Kiihne's :  "  To-day  we  be- 
lieve that  we  see"  such  or  such  fact,  "  but  know  not 
that  further  improvements  in  the  means  of  observation 
will  not  reveal  what  is  assumed  for  certainty  to  be  only 
illusion."  With  such  authority  to  lean  on — and  it  is  the 
highest  we  can  have — we  may  be  allowed  to  entertain 
the  conjecture,  that  it  is  just  possible  that  some  certain- 
ties, even  of  Mr.  Huxley,  may  yet  reveal  themselves  as 
illusions. 

But,  in  resistance  to  any  sweeping  conclusions  built 
on  it,  we  are  not  confined  to  a  reference  to  the  imper- 
fections involved  in  the  very  nature  and  epoch  of  the 
science  itself  in  general.  With  yet  greater  assurance 
of  carrying  conviction  with  us,  we  may  point  in  partic- 
ular to  the  actual  opinions  of  its  present  professors. 
We  have  seen  already,  in  the  consideration  premised, 
that  Mr.  Huxley's  hypothesis  of  a  protoplasm  matter  is 
unsupported,  even  by  the  most  innovating  Germans, 
who  as  yet  will  not  advance,  the  most  advanced  of  them, 
beyond  a  protoplasm-cell  ;  and  that  his  whole  argument 
is  thus  sapped  in  advance.  But  what  threatens  more 


35  I0 

absolute  extinction  of  this  argument  still,  all  the  Ger- 
man physiologists  do  not  accept  even  the  protoplasm- 
cell.  Rindfleisch,  for  example,  in  his  recently-published 
*  Lehrbuch  der  pathologischen  Gewebelehre,'  speaks  of 
the  cell  very  much  as  we  understand  Virchow  to  have 
spoken  of  it.  To  him  there  is  in  the  cell  not  only  pro- 
toplasm but  nucleus,  and  perhaps  membrane  as  well. 
To  him,  too,  the  cell  propagates  itself  quite  as  we  have 
been  hitherto  fancying  it  to  do,  by  division  of  the  nu- 
cleus, increase  of  the  protoplasm,  and  ultimate  parti- 
tion of  the  cell  itself.  Yet  he  knows  withal  of  the 
opinions  of  others,  and  accepts  them  in  a  manner.  He 
mentions  Kiihne's  account  of  the  membrane  as  at  first 
but  a  mere  physical  limit  of  two  fluids — a  mere  pe- 
ripheral film  or  curdling  ;  still  he  assumes  a  formal  and 
decided  membrane  at  last.  Even  Leydig  and  Schultze, 
who  shall  be  the  express  eliminators  of  the  membrane 
— the  one  by  initiation  and  the  other  by  consummation- 
confess  that,  as  regards  the  cells  of  certain  tissues,  they 
have  never  been  able  to  detect  in  them  the  absence  tof 
a  membrane. 

As  regards  the  nucleus  again,  the  case  is  very  much 
stronger.  When  we  have  admitted  with  Briicke  that 
certain  cryptogam  cells,  with  Haeckel  that  certain  pro- 
tists,  with  Cienkowsky  that  two  monads,  and  with 
Schultze  that  one  amoeba,  are  without  nucleus — when 
we  have  admitted  that  division  of  the  cell  may  take 
place  without  implicating  that  of  the  nucleus — that  the 
movements  of  the  nucleus  may  be  passive  and  due  to 
those  of  the  protoplasm — that  Baer  and  Strieker  dem- 
onstrate the  disappearance  of  the  original  nucleus  in 
the  impregnated  egg, — when  we  have  admitted  this,  we 
have  admitted  also  all  that  can  be  said  in  degradation 


io8  (  36  ) 

of  the  nucleus.  Even  those  who  say  all  this  still  at- 
tribute to  the  nucleus  an  important  and  unknown  role, 
and  describe  the  formation  in  the  impregnated  egg  of  a 
new  nucleus  ;  while  there  are  others  again  who  resist 
every  attempt  to  degrade  it.  Bottcher  asserts  move- 
ment for  the  nucleus,  even  when  wholly  removed  from 
the  cell ;  Neumann  points  to  such  movement  in  dead 
or  dying  cells ;  and  there  is  other  testimony  to  a  like 
effect,  as  well  as  to  peculiarities  of  the  nucleus  other- 
wise that  indicate  spontaneity.  In  this  reference  we 
may  allude  to  the  weighty  opinion  of  the  late  Professor 
Goodsir,  who  anticipated  in  so  remarkable  a  manner 
certain  of  the  determinations  of  Virchow.  Goodsir,  in 
that  anticipation,  wonderfully  rich  and  ingenious  as  he 
is  everywhere,  is  perhaps  nowhere  more  interesting  and 
successful  than  in  what  concerns  the  nucleus.  Of  the 
whole  cell,  the  nucleus  is  to  him,  as  it  was  to  Schleiden, 
Schwann,  and  others,  the  most  important  element. 
And  this  is  the  view  to  which  I,  who  have  little  busi- 
ness to  speak,  wish  success.  This  universe  is  not  an 
accidental  cavity,  in  which  an  accidental  dust  has  been 
accidentally  swept  into  heaps  for  the  accidental  evolu- 
tion of  the  majestic  spectacle  of  organic  and  inorganic 
life.  That  majestic  spectacle  is  a  spectacle  as  plainly 
for  the  eye  of  reason  as  any  diagram  of  the  mathema- 
tician. That  majestic  spectacle  could  have  been  con- 
structed, was  constructed,  only  in  reason,  for  reason, 
and  by  reason.  From  beyond  Orion  and  the  Pleiades, 
across  the  green  hem  of  earth,  up  to  the  imperial  per- 
sonality of  man,  all,  the  furthest,  the  deadest,  the  dus- 
tiest, is  for  fusion  in  the  invisible  point  of  the  single 
Ego — which  alone  glorifies  it.  For  the  subject,  and  on 
the  model  of  the  subject,  all  is  made.  Therefore  it  is 


(  37  )  109 

that — though,  precisely  as  there  are  acephalous  mon- 
sters by  way  of  exception  and  deformity,  there  may  be 
also  at  the  very  extremity  of  animated  existence  cells 
without  a  nucleus — I  cannot  help  believing  that  this 
nucleus  itself,  as  analogue  of  the  subject  will  yet  be 
proved  the  most  important  and  indispensable  of  all  the 
normal  cell-elements.  Even  the  phenomena  of  the  im- 
pregnated egg  seem  to  me  to  support  this  view.  In  the 
egg,  on  impregnation,  it  seems  to  me  natural  (I  say  it 
with  a  smile)  that  the  old  sun  that  ruled  it  should  go 
down,  and  that  a  new  sun,  stronger  in  the  combination 
of  the  new  and  the  old,  should  ascend  into  its  place ! 

Be  these  things  as  they  may,  we  have  now  overwhelm- 
ing evidence  before  us  for  concluding,  with  reference  to 
Mr.  Huxley's  first  proposition,  that — in  view  of  the  na- 
ture of  microscopic  science — in  view  of  the  state  of 
belief  that  obtains  at  present  as  regards  nucleus,  mem- 
brane, and  entire  cell — even  in  view  of  the  supporters 
of  protoplasm  itself — Mr.  Huxley  is  not  authorized  to 
speak  of  a  physical  matter  of  life ;  which,  for  the  rest, 
if  granted,  would,  for  innumerable  and,  as  it  appears  to 
me,  irrefragable  reasons,  be  obliged  to  acknowledge  for 
itself,  not  identity,  but  an  infinite  diversity  .in  power,  in 
form  and  in  substance. 

So  much  for  the  first  proposition  in  Mr.  Huxley's  es- 
say, or  that  which  concerns  protoplasm,  as  a  supposed 
matter  of  life,  identical  itself,  and  involving  the  identity 
of  all  the  various  organs  and  organisms  which  it  is  as- 
sumed to  compose.  What  now  of  the  second  proposi- 
tion, or  that  which  concerns  the  materiality  at  once  of 
protoplasm,  and  of  all  that  is  conceived  to  derive  from 
protoplasm  ?  In  other  words,  though,  so  to  speak,  for 
organic  bricks  anything  like  an  organic  clay  still  awaits 


no 


(38) 


the  proof,  I  ask,  if  the  bricks  are  not  the  same  because 
the  clay  is  not  the  same,  what  if  the  materiality  of  the 
former  is  equally  unsupported  by  the  materiality  of  the 
latter  ?  Or  what  if  the  functions  of  protoplasm  are  not 
properties  of  its  mere  molecular  constitution  ? 

For  this  is  Mr.  Huxley,s  second  proposition,  namely, 
That,  all  vital  and  intellectual  functions  are  but  the 
properties  of  the  molecular  disposition  and  changes  of 
the  material  basis  (protoplasm)  of  which  the  various 
animals  and  vegetables  consist.  With  the  conclusions 
now  before  us,  it  is  evident  that  to  enter  at  all  on  this 
part  of  Mr.  Huxley's  argumentation  is,  so  far  as  we 
are  concerned,  only  a  matter  of  grace.  In  order  that 
it  should  have  any  weight,  we  must  grant  the  fact,  at 
once  of  the  existence  of  a  matter  of  life,  and  of  all  or- 
gans and  organisms  being  but  aggregates  of  it.  This, 
obviously,  we  cannot  now  do.  By  way  of  hypothesis, 
however,  we  may  assume  it.  Let  it  be  granted,  then, 
that/rtf  hac  vice  there  is  a  physical  basis  of  life  with  all 
the  consequences  named  ;  and  now  let  us  see  how  Mr. 
Huxley  proceeds  to  establish  its  materiality. 

The  whole  former  part  of  Mr.  Huxley's  essay  consists 
(as  said)  of  fifty  paragraphs,  and  the  argument  imme- 
diately concerned  is  confined  to  the  latter  ten  of  them. 
This  argument  is  the  simple  chemical  analogy  that,  un- 
der stimulus  of  an  electric  spark,  hydrogen  and  oxygen 
uniting  into  an  equivalent  weight  of  water,  and,  under 
stimulus  of  preexisting  protoplasm,  carbon,  hydrogen, 
oxygen,  and  nitrogen  uniting  into  an  equivalent  weight 
of  protoplasm,  there  is  the  same  warrant  for  atttribu- 
ting  the  properties  of  the  consequent  to  the  properties 
of  the  antecedents  in  the  latter  case  as  in  the  former. 
The  properties  of  protoplasm  are,  in  origin  and  charac- 


(39)  in 

ter,  precisely  on  the  same  level  as  the  properties  of  wa- 
ter. The  cases  are  perfectly  parallel.  It  is  as  absurd 
to  attribute  a  new  entity  vitality  to  protoplasm,  as  a  new 
entity  aquosity  to  water.  Or,  if  it  is  by  its  mere  chem- 
ical and  physical  structure  that  water  exhibits  certain 
.properties  called  aqueous,  it  is  also  by  its  mere  chemi- 
cal and  physical  structure  that  protoplasm  exhibits  cer- 
tain properties  called  vital.  All  that  is  necessary  in 
either  case  is,  "  under  certain  conditions,"  to  bring  the 
chemical  constituents  together.  If  water  is  a  molecu- 
lar complication,  protoplasm  is  equally  a  molecular  com- 
plication, and  for  the  description  of  the  one  or  the 
other  there  is  no  change  of  language  required.  A  new 
substance  with  new  qualities  results  in  precisely  the 
same  way  here,  as  a  new  substance  with  new  qualities 
there ;  and  the  derivative  qualities  are  not  more  differ- 
ent from  the  primitive  qualities  in  the  one  instance, 
than  the  derivative  qualities  are  different  from  the  prim- 
itive qualities  in  the  other.  Lastly,  the  modus  operandi 
of  preexistent  protoplasm  is  not  more  unintelligible  than 
that  of  the  electric  spark.  The  conclusion  is  irresisti- 
ble, then,  that  all  protoplasm  being  reciprocally  con- 
vertible, and  consequently  identical,  the  properties  it 
displays,  vitality  and  intellect  included,  are  as  much 
the  result  of  molecular  constitution  as  those  of  water 
itself. 

It  is  evident,  then,  that  the  fulcrum  on  which  Mr. 
Huxley's  second  proposition  rests,  is  a  single  inference 
from  a  chemical  analogy.  Analogy,  however,  being 
never  identity,  is  apt  to  betray.  The  difference  it  hides 
may  be  essential,  that  is,  while  the  likeness  it  shows 
may  be  inessential — so  far  as  the  conclusion  is  con- 
cerned. That  this  mischance  has  overtaken  Mr.  Hux- 


112  (40) 

ley  here,  it  will,  I  fancy,  not  be  difficult  to  demonstrate. 

The  analogy  to  which  Mr.  Huxley  trusts  has  two  ref- 
erences :  one,  to  chemical  composition,  and  one  to  a 
certain  stimulus  that  determines  it.  As  regards  chemi- 
cal composition,  we  are  asked,  by  virtue  of  the  analogy 
obtaining,  to  identify,  as  equally  simple  instances  of  it, 
protoplasm  here  and  water  there  ;  and,  as  regards  the 
stimulus  in  question,  we  are  asked  to  admit  the  action 
of  the  electric  spark  in  the  one  case  to  be  quite  analo- 
gous to  the  action  of  preexisting  protoplasm  in  the 
other.  In  both  references  I  shall  endeavor  to  point 
out  that  the  analogy  fails ;  or,  as  we  may  say  it  also, 
that,  even  to  Mr.  Huxley,  it  can  only  seem  to  succeed 
by  discounting  the  elements  of  difference  that  still 
subsist. 

To  begin  with  chemical  combination,  it  is  not  unjust 
to  demand  that  the  analogy  which  must  be  admitted  to 
exist  in  that,  and  a  general  physical  respect,  should  not 
be  strained  beyond  its  legitimate  limits.  Protoplasm 
cannot  be  denied  to  be  a  chemical  substance  ;  proto- 
plasm cannot  be  denied  to  be  a  physical  substance.  As 
a  compound  of  carbon,  hydrogen,  oxygen  and  nitrogen, 
it  comports  itself  chemically — at  least  in  ultimate  in- 
stance— in  a  manner  not  essentially  different  from  that 
in  which  water,  as  a  compound  of  hydrogen  and  oxy- 
gen, comports  itself  chemically.  In  mere  physical  as- 
pect, again,  it  may  count  quality  for  quality  with  water 
in  the  same  aspect.  In  short,  so  far  as  it  is  on  chemi- 
cal and  physical  structure  that  the  possession  of  dis- 
tinctive properties  in  any  case  depends,  both  bodies 
may  be  allowed  to  be  pretty  well  on  a  par.  The  anal- 
ogy must  be  allowed  to  hold  so  far :  so  far  but  no 
farther.  One  step  farther  and  we  see  not  only  that 


(  4i  )  "3 

protoplasm  has,  like  water,  a  chemical  and  physical 
structure  ;  but  that,  unlike  water,  it  has  also  an  organ- 
ized or  organic  structure.  Now  this,  on  the  part  of 
protoplasm,  is  a  possession  in  excess  ;  and  with  re- 
lation to  that  excess  there  can  be  no  grounds  for  anal- 
ogy. This,  perhaps,  is  what  Mr.  Huxley  has  omitted 
to  consider.  When  insisting  on  attributing  to  proto- 
plasm the  qualities  it  possessed,  because  of  its  chemical 
and  physical  structure,  if  it  was  for  chemical  and  phys- 
ical structure  that  we  attributed  to  water  its  qualities, 
he  has  simply  forgotten  the  addition  to  protoplasm  of  a 
third  structure  that  can  only  be  named  organic.  "  If 
the  phenomena  exhibited  by  water  are  its  properties,  so 
are  those  presented  by  protoplasm,  living  or  dead,  its 
properties."  When  Mr.  Huxley  speaks  thus,  Exactly 
so,  we  may  answer :  "  living  or  dead  !"  That  alterna- 
tive is  simply  slipped  in  and  passed  ;  but  it  is  in  that 
alternative  that  the  whole  matter  lies.  Chemically, 
dead  protoplasm  is  to  Mr.  Huxley  quite  as  good  as 
living  -protoplasm.  As  a  sample  of  the  article,  he  is 
quite  content  with  dead  protoplasm,  and  even  swallows 
it,  he  says,  in  the  shape  of  bread,  lobster,  mutton,  etc., 
with  all  the  satisfactory  results  to  be  desired.  -  Still,  as 
concerns  the  argument,  it  must  be  pointed  out  that  it  is 
only  these  that  can  be  placed  on  the  same  level  as  wa- 
ter ;  and  that  living  protoplasm  is  not  only  unlike  wa- 
ter, but  it  is  unlike  dead  protoplasm.  Living  protoplasm, 
namely,  is  identical  with  dead  protoplasm  only  so  far  as 
its  chemistry  is  concerned  (if  even  so  much  as  that) ; 
and  it  is  quite  evident,  consequently,  that  difference  be- 
tween the  two  cannot  depend  on  that  in  which  they  are 
identical— cannot  depend  on  the  chemistry.  Life,  then, 
is  no  affair  of  chemical  and  physical  structure,  and  must 


H4  (  42  ) 

find  its  explanation  in  something  else.  It  is  thus  that, 
lifted  high  enough,  the  light  of  the  analogy  between 
water  and  protoplasm  is  seen  to  go  out  Water,  in  fact, 
when  formed  from  hydrogen  and  oxygen,  is,  in  a  cer- 
tain way  and  in  relation  to  them,  no  new  product  ;  it 
has  still,  like  them,  only  chemical  and  physical  quali- 
ties ;  it  is  still,  as  they  are,  inorganic.  So  far  as  kind 
of  power  is  concerned,  they  are  still  on  the  same  level. 
But  not  so  protoplasm,  where,  with  preservation  of  the 
chemical  and  physical  likeness  there  is  the  addition  of 
the  unlikeness  of  life,  of  organization,  and  of  ideas. 
But  the  addition  is  a  new  world — a  new  and  higher 
world,  the  world  of  a  self-realizing  thought,  the  world 
of  an  entelechy.  The  change  of  language  objected  to- 
by Mr.  Huxley  is  thus  a  matter  of  necessity,  for  it  is 
not  mere  molecular  complication  that  we  have  any 
longer  before  us,  and  the  qualities  of  the  derivative  are 
essentially  and  absolutely  different  from  the  qualities 
of  the  primitive.  If  we  did  invent  the  term  aquosity, 
then,  as  an  abstract  sign  for  all  the  qualities  of  water, 
we  should  really  do  very  little  harm  ;  but  aquosity  and 
vitality  would  still  remain  essentially  unlike.  While  for 
the  invention  of  aquosity  there  is  little  or  no  call,  how- 
ever, the  fact  in  the  other  case  is  that  we  are  not  only 
compelled  to  invent,  but  to  perceive  vitality.  We  are 
quite  willing  to  do  as  Mr.  Huxley  would  have  us  to  do : 
look  on,  watch  the  phenomena,  and  name  the  results. 
But  just  in  proportion  to  our  faithfulness  in  these  re- 
spects is  the  necessity  for  the  recognition  of  a  new 
world  and  a  new  nomenclature.  There  are  certainly 
different  states  of  water,  as  ice  and  steam  ;  but  the  re- 
lation of  the  solid  to  the  liquid,  or  of  either  to  the  va- 
por, surely  offers  no  analogy  to  the  relation  of  proto- 


(43)  us 

plasm  dead  to  protoplasm  alive.  That  relation  is  not 
an  analogy  but  an  antithesis,  the  antithesis  of  antithe- 
ses. In  it,  in  fact,  we  are  in  presence  of  the  one  in- 
communicable gulf — the  gulf  of  all  gulfs — that  gulf 
which  Mr.  Huxley's  protoplasm  is  as  powerless  to 
efface  as  any  other  material  expedient  that  has  ever 
been  suggested  since  the  eyes  of  men  first  looked  into 
it — the  mighty  gulf  between  death  and  life. 

The  differences  alluded  to  (they  are,  in  order,  organi- 
zation and  life,  the  objective  idea — design,  and  the  sub- 
jective idea — thought),  it  may  be  remarked,  are  admit- 
ted by  those  very  Germans  to  whom  protoplasm,  name 
and  thing,  is  due.  They,  the  most  advanced  and  inno- 
vating of  them,  directly  avow  that  there  is  present  in 
the  cell  "  an  architectonic  principle  that  has  not  yet 
been  detected."  In  pronouncing  protoplasm  capable 
of  active  or  vital  movements,  they  do  by  that  refer,  they 
admit  also,  to  an  immaterial  force,  and  they  ascribe  the 
processes  exhibited  by  protoplasm — in  so  many  words — 
not  to  the  molecules,  but  to  organization  and  life.  It  is 
remarked  by  Kant  that  "  the  reason  of  the  specific 
mode  of  existence  of  every  part  of  a  living  body  lies  in 
the  whole,  whilst  with  dead  masses  each  part  bears  this 
reason  within  itself;"  and  this  indeed  is  how  the  two 
worlds  are  differentiated.  A  drop  of  water,  once 
formed,  is  there  passive  for  ever,  susceptible  to  influ- 
ence, but  indifferent  to  influence,  and  what  influence 
reaches  it  is  wholly  from  without.  It  may  be  added  to, 
it  may  be  subtracted  from  ;  but  infinitely  apathetic 
quantitatively,  it  is  qualitatively  independent.  It  is  in- 
different to  its  own  physical  parts.  It  is  without  con- 
tractility, without  alimentation,  without  reproduction, 
without  specific  function.  Not  so  the  cell,  in  which  the 


116  (44) 

parts  are  dependent  on  the  whole,  and  the  whole  on 
the  parts ;  which  has  its  activity  and  raison  d'ttre  within  • 
which  manifests  all  the  powers  which  we  have  described 
water  to  want ;  and  which  requires  for  its  continuance 
conditions  of  which  water  is  independent.  It  is  only 
so  far  as  organization  and  life  are  concerned,  how- 
ever, that  the  cell  is  thus  different  from  water.  Chemi- 
cally and  physically,  as  said,  it  can  show  with  it  quality 
for  quality.  How  strangely  Mr.  Huxley's  deliverances 
show  beside  these  facts  !  He  can  "  see  no  break  in  the 
series  of  steps  in  molecular  complication  ;"  but,  glar- 
ingly obvious,  there  is  a  step  added  that  is  not  molecu- 
lar at  all,  and  that  has  its  supporting  conditions  com- 
pletely elsewhere.  The  molecules  are  as  fully  accounted 
for  in  protoplasm  as  in  water  ;  but  the  sum  of  qualities, 
thus  exhausted  in  the  latter,  is  not  so  exhausted  in  the 
former,  in  which  there  are  qualities  due,  plainly,  not  to 
the  molecules  as  molecules,  but  to  the  form  into  which 
they  are  thrown,  and  the  force  that  makes  that  form 
one.  When  the  chemical  elements  are  brought  together, 
Mr.  Huxley  says,  protoplasm  is  formed,  "  and  this  pro- 
toplasm exhibits  the  phenomena  of  life  j"  but  he  ought 
to  have  added  that  these  phenomena  are  themselves 
added  to  the  phenomena  for  which  all  that  relates  to 
chemistry  stands,  and  are  there,  consequently,  only  by 
reason  of  some  other  determinant.  New  consequents 
necessarily  demand  new  antecedents.  "We  think  fit 
to  call  different  kinds  of  matter  carbon,  oxygen,  hydro- 
gen, and  nitrogen,  and  to  speak  of  the  various  powers 
and  activities  of  these  substances  as  the  properties  of 
the  matter  of  which  they  are  composed."  That,  doubt- 
less, is  true,  we  say  ;  but  such  statements  do  not  ex- 
haust the  facts.  We  call  water  hydrogen  and  oxygen, 


(45)  ^7 

and  attribute  its  properties  to  the  properties  of  them. 
In  a  chemical  point  of  view,  we  ought  to  do  the  same 
thing  for  ice  and  steam  ;  yet,  for  all  the  chemical  iden- 
tity, water  is  not  ice,  nor  is  either  steam.  Do  we,  then, 
in  these  cases,  make  nothing  of  the  difference,  and  in 
its  despite  enjoy  the  satisfaction  of  viewing  the  three 
as  one  ?  Not  so  ;  we  ask  a  reason  for  the  difference  ; 
we  demand  an  antecedent  that  shall  render  the  conse- 
quent intelligible.  The  chemistry  of  oxygen  and  hy- 
drogen is  not  enough  in  explanation  of  the  threefold 
form ;  and  by  the  very  necessity  of  the  facts  we  are 
driven  to  the  addition  of  heat.  It  is  precisely  so  with 
protoplasm  in  its  twofold  form.  The  chemistry  remain- 
ing the  same  in  each  (if  it  really  does  so),  we  are  com- 
pelled to  seek  elsewhere  a  reason  for  the  difference  of 
living  from  dead  protoplasm.  As  the  differences  of  ice 
and  steam  from  water  lay  not  in  the  hydrogen  and  oxy- 
gen, but  in  the  heat,  so  the  difference  of  living  from 
dead  protoplasm  lies  not  in  the  carbon,  the  hydrogen, 
the  oxygen,  and  the  nitrogen,  but  in  the  vital  organiza- 
tion. In  all  cases,  for  the  new  quality,  plainly,  we  must 
have  a  new  explanation.  The  qualities  of  a  steam- 
engine  are  not  the  results  of  its  simple  chemistry.  We 
do  apply  to  protoplasm  the  same  conceptions,  then,  that 
are  legitimate  elsewhere,  and  in  allocating  properties 
and  explaining  phenomena  we  simply  insist  on  Mr. 
Huxley's  own  distinction  of  "  living  or  dead."  That, 
in  fact,  is  to  us  the  distinction  of  distinctions,  and  we 
admit  no  vital  action  whatever,  not  even  the  dullest,  to 
be  the  result  of  the  molecular  action  of  the  protoplasm 
that  displays  it.  The  very  protoplasm  of  the  nettie- 
sting,  with  which  Mr.  Huxley  begins,  is  already  vitaily 
organized,  and  in  that  organization  as  mucn  superior  to 


its  own  molecules  as  the  steam-engine,  in  its  mech- 
anism, to  its  own  wood  and  iron.  It  were  indeed  as  ra- 
tional to  say  that  there  is  no  principle  concerned  in  a 
steam-engine  or  a  watch  but  that  of  its  molecular 
forces,  as  to  make  this  assertion  of  organized  matter. 
Still  there  are  degrees  in  organization,  and  the  highest 
forms  of  life  are  widely  different  from  the  lowest.  De- 
grees similar  we  see  even  in  the  inorganic  world.  The 
persistent  flow  of  a  river  is,  to  the  mighty  reason  of. the 
solar  system,  in  some  such  proportion,  perhaps,  as  the 
rhizopod  to  man.  In  protoplasm,  even  the  lowest,  then, 
but  much  more  conspicuously  in  the  highest,  there  is, 
in  addition  to  the  molecular  force,  another  force  unsig- 
nalized  by  Mr.  Huxley — the  force  of  vital  organization. 
But  this  force  is  a  rational  unity,  and  that  is  an  idea  ; 
and  this  I  would  point  to  as  a  second  form  of  the  addi- 
tion to  the  chemistry  and  physics  of  protoplasm.  We 
have  just  seen,  it  is  true,  that  an  idea  may  be  found  in 
inorganic  matter,  as  in  the  solar  and  sidereal  systems 
generally.  But  the  idea  in  organized  matter  is  not  one 
operative,  so  to  speak,  from  without :  it  is  one  operative 
from  within,  and  in  an  infinitely  more  intimate  and  per- 
vading manner.  The  units  that  form  the  complement 
of  an  inorganic  system  are  but  independently  and  ex- 
ternally in  place,  like  units  in  a  procession  :  but  in  what 
is  organized  there  is  no  individual  that  is  not  sublated 
into  the  unity  of  the  single  life.  This  is  so  even,  in  pro- 
toplasm. Mr.  Huxley,  it  is  true,  desiderates,  as  result 
of  mere  ordinary  chemical  process,  a  life-stuff  in  mass, 
as  it  were  in  the  web,  to  which  he  has  only  to  resort  for 
cuttings  and  cuttings  in  order  to  produce,  by  aggrega- 
tion, what  organized  individual  he  pleases.  But  the 
facts  are  not  so  :  we  cannot  have  protoplasm  in  the 


(47)  IX9 

web,  but  the  piece.  There  is  as  yet  no  matter  of  life  ; 
there  are  still  cells  of  life.  It  is  no  shred  of  protoplasm 
— no  spoonful  or  toothpickful — that  can  be  recognized 
as  adequate  to  the  function  and  the  name.  Such  shred 
may  wriggle  a  moment,  but  it  produces  nought,  and  it 
dies.  In  the  smallest,  lowest  protoplasm  cell,  then,  we 
have  this  rational  unity  of  a  complement  of  individuals 
that  only  are  for  the  whole  and  exist  in  the  whole. 
This  is  an  idea,  therefore;  this  is  design  :  the  organized 
concert  of  many  to  a  single  common  purpose.  The 
rudest  savage  that  should,  as  in  Paley's  illustration, 
find  a  watch,  and  should  observe  the  various  contrivan- 
ces all  controlled  by  the  single  end  in  view,  would  be 
obliged  to  acknowledge — though  in  his  own  way — that 
what  he  had  before  him  was  no  mere  physical,  no  mere 
molecular  product.  So  in  protoplasm  :  even  from  the 
first,  but,  quite  undeniably,  in  the  completed  organiza- 
tion at  last,  which  alone  it  was  there  to  produce  ;  for  a 
single  idea  has  been  its  one  manifestation  throughout. 
And  in  what  machinery  does  it  not  at  length  issue  ? 
Was  it  molecular  powers  that  invented  a  respiration — 
that  perforated  the  posterior  ear  to  give  a  balance  of 
air — that  compensated  the  fenesfra  ovalis  by  a  fenestra 
rotunda — that  placed  in  the  auricular  sacs  those  otolithes, 
those  express  stones  for  hearing  ?  Such  machinery  ! 
The  chorda  tendinece  are  to  the  valves  of  the  heart  ex- 
actly adjusted  check-strings ;  and  the  contractile 
columna  carnecz  are  set  in,  under  contraction  and  ex- 
pansion, to  equalize  their  length  to  their  office.  Mem- 
branes, rods,  and  liquids — it  required  the  express  ex- 
periment of  man  to  make  good  the  fact  that  the 
inventor  of  the  ear  had  availed  himself  of  the  most 
perfect  apparatus  possible  for  his  purpose.  And  are  we 


120  (43) 

to  conceive  such  machinery,  such  apparatus,  such  con- 
trivances merely  molecular  ?  Are  molecules  adequate 
to  such  things — molecules  in  their  blind  passivity,  and 
dead,  dull  insensibility  ?  Is  it  to  molecular  agency  Mr. 
Huxley  himself  owes  that  "  singular  inward  laboratory" 
of  which  he  speaks,  and  without  which  all  the  proto- 
plasm in  the  world  would  be  useless  to  him  ?  Surely, 
in  the  presence  of  these  manifest  ideas,  it  is  impossible 
to  attribute  the  single  peculiar  feature  of  protoplasm — 
its  vitality,  namely — to  mere  molecular  chemistry.  Pro- 
toplasm, it  is  true,  breaks  up  into  carbon,  hydrogen, 
oxygen,  and  nitrogen,  as  water  does  into  hydrogen  and 
oxygen  ;  but  the  watch  breaks  similarly  up  into  mere 
brass,  and  steel,  and  glass.  The  loose  materials  of 
the  watch — even  its  chemical  material  if  you  will — re- 
place its  weight,  quite  as  accurately  as  the  constituents 
carbon,  etc.,  replace  the  weight  of  the  protoplasm. 
But  neither  these  nor  those  replace  the  vanished  idea, 
which  was  alone  the  important  element.  Mr.  Huxley 
saw  no  break  in  the  series  of  steps  in  molecular  com- 
plication ;  but,  though  not  molecular,  it  is  difficult  to 
understand  what  more  striding,  what  more  absolute 
break  could  be  desired  than  the  break  into  an  idea.  It 
is  of  that  break  alone  that  we  think  in  the  watch ;  and 
it  is  of  that  break  alone  that  we  should  think  in  the 
protoplasm  which,  far  more  cunningly,  far  more  ration- 
ally, constructs  a  heart,  an  eye  or  an  ear.  That  is  the 
break  of  breaks,  and  explain  it  as  we  may,  we  shall 
never  explain  it  by  molecules. 

But,  if  inorganic  elements  as  such  are  inadequate  to 
account  either  for  vital  organization  or  the  objective 
idea  of  design,  much  more  are  they  inadequate,  in  the 
third  place,  to  account  for  the  subjective  idea,  for  the 


(  49  )  121 

phenomena  of  thought  as  thought.  Yet  Mr.  Huxley 
tells  us  that  thought  is  but  the  expression  of  the  mo- 
lecular changes  of  protoplasm.  This  he  only  tells  us  ; 
this  he  does  not  prove.  He  merely  says  that,  if  we  ad- 
mit the  functions  of  the  lowest  forms  of  life  to  be  but 
"  direct  results  of  the  nature  of  the  matter  of  which 
they  are  composed,"  we  must  admit  as  much  for  the 
functions  of  the  highest.  We  have  not  admitted  Mr. 
Huxley's  presupposition  \  but,  even  with  its  admission, 
we  should  not  feel  bound  to  admit  his  conclusion.  In 
such  a  mighty  system  of  differences,  there  are  ample 
room  and  verge  enough  for  the  introduction  of  new  mo- 
tives. We  can  say  here  at  once,  in  fact,  that  as  thought, 
let  its  connection  be  what  it  may  with,  has  never  been 
proved  to  result  from,  organization,  no  improvement  of 
the  proof  required  will  be  found  in  protoplasm.  No  one 
power  that  Mr.  Huxley  signalizes  in  protoplasm  can  ac- 
count for  thought :  not  alimentation,  and  not  reproduc- 
tion, certainly ;  but  not  even  contractility.  We  have 
seen  already  that  there  is  no  proof  of  contraction  being 
necessary  even  for  the  simplest  sensation  ;  but  much 
less  is  there  any  proof  of  a  necessity  of  contraction  for 
the  inner  and  independent  operations  of  the  mind.  Mr. 
Huxley  himself  admits  this.  He  says  :  "  Speech,  ges- 
ture, and  every  other  form  of  human  action  are,  in  the 
long-run,  resolvable  into  muscular  contraction  ;"  and  so, 
"  even  those  manifestations  of  intellect,  of  feeling,  and 
of  will,  which  we  rightly  name  the  higher  faculties,  are 
not  excluded  from  this  classification,  inasmuch  as  to 
every  one  but  the  subject  of  them,  they  are  known  only  as 
transitory  changes  in  the  relative  positions  of  pa~ts  of 
the  body."  The  concession  is  made  here,  we  see,  that 
these  manifestations  are  differently  known  to  the  sub 

3 


122  (S0> 

ject  of  them.  But  we  may  first  object  that,  if  even  that 
privileged  "  every  one  but  the  subject"  were  limited  to 
a  knowledge  of  contractions,  he  would  not  know  much. 
It  is  only  because  he  knows,  first  of  all,  a  thinker  and 
wilier  of  contractions  that  these  themselves  cease  to  be 
but  passing  externalities,  and  transitory  contingencies. 
Neither  is  it  reasonable  to  assert  an  identity  of  nature 
for  contractions,  and  for  that  which  they  only  represent. 
It  would  hardly  be  fair  to  confound  either  the  receiver 
or  the  sender  of  a  telegraphic  message,  with  the  move- 
ments which  alone  bore  it,  and  without  which  it  would 
have  been  impossible.  The  sign  is  not  the  thing  signi- 
fied, it  is  but  the  servant  of  the  signifier — his  own  arbi- 
trary mark — and  intelligible,  in  the  first  place,  only  to 
him.  It  is  the  meaning,  in  all  cases,  that  is  alone  vital  ; 
the  sign  is  but  an  accident.  To  convert  the  internality 
into  the  arbitrary  externality  that  simply  expresses  it,  is 
for  Mr,  Huxley  only  an  oversight.  Your  ideas  are 
made  known  to  your  neighbors  by  contractions,  there- 
fore your  ideas  are  of  the  same  nature  as  contractions  ! 
Or,  even  to  take  it  from  the  other  side,  your  neighbor 
perceives  in  you  contractions  only,  and  therefore  your 
ideas  are  contractions !  Are  not  the  vital  elements 
here  present  the  two  correspondent  internalities,  be- 
tween which  the  contractions  constitute  but  an  arbitrary 
chain  of  external  communication,  that  is  so  now,  but 
may  be  otherwise  again  ?  The  ringing  of  the  bell  at 
the  window  is  not  precisely  the  dwarf  within.  Nor  are 
Engineer  Chappe's  "wooden  arms  and  elbow-joints 
jerking  and  fugling  in  the  air,"  to  be  identified  with 
Engineer  Chappe  himself.  For  the  higher  faculties, 
even  for  speech,  etc.,  assuredly  Mr.  Huxley  might  have 
well  spared  himself  this  superfluous  and  inapplicable 
reference  to  contraction. 


(5O  .123 

But,  in  the  middle  of  it,  as  we  have  seen,  Mr.  Huxley 
concedes  that  these  manifestations  are  differently  known 
to  the  subject  of  them.  If  so,  what  becomes  of  his 
assertion  of  but  a  certain  number  of  powers  for  proto- 
plasm ?  The  manifestations  of  the  higher  faculties  are 
not  known  to  the  subject  of  them  by  contraction,  etc. 
By  what,  then,  are  they  known  ?  According  to  Mr. 
Huxley,  they  can  only  be  known  by  the  powers  of  pro- 
toplasm ;  and  therefore,  by  his  own  showing,  protoplasm 
must  possess  powers  other  than  those  of  his  own  asser- 
tion. Mr.  Huxley's  one  great  power  of  contractility, 
Mr.  Huxley  himself  confesses  to  be  inapplicable  here. 
Indeed,  in  his  Physiology  (p.  193),  he  makes  such  an 
avowal  as  this  :  "  We  class  sensations,  along  with  emo- 
tions^ and  volitions,  and  thoughts,  under  the  common 
head  of  states  of  consciousness  ;  but  what  consciousness 
is  we  know  not,  and  how  it  is  that  anything  so  remark- 
able as  a  state  of  consciousness  comes  about  as  the  re- 
sult of  irritating  nervous  tissue,  is  just  as  unaccounta- 
ble as  the  appearance  of  the  Djin  when  Aladdin  rubbed 
his  lamp  in  the  story."  Consciousness  plainly  was  not 
muscular  contraction  to  Mr.  Huxley  when  he  wrote  his 
Physiology  ;  it  is  only  since  then  that  he  has  gone  over 
to  the  assertion  of  no  power  in  protoplasm  but  the  triple 
power,  contractility,  etc.  But  the  truth  is  only  as  his 
Physiology  has  it — the  cleft  is  simply,  as  Mr.  Huxley 
acknowledges  it  there,  absolute.  On  one  side,  there  is 
the  world  of  externality,  where  all  is  body  by  body, 
and  away  from  one  another — the  boundless  reciprocal 
exclusion  of  the  infinite  object.  On  the  other  side, 
there  is  the  world  of  internality,  where  all  is  soul  to 
soul,  and  away  into  one  another — the  boundless  recip- 
rocal inclusion  of  the  infinite  subject.  This — even 


i*4  (52) 

while  it  is  true  that,  for  subject  to  be  subject,  and  ob- 
ject, object,  the  boundless  intussuscepted  multiplicity 
of  the  single  invisible  point  of  the  one  is  but  the  dimen- 
sionless  casket  into  which  the  illimitable  Genius  of  the 
other  must  retract  and  withdraw  itself — is  the  differ- 
ence of  differences  ;  and  certainly  it  is  not  internality 
that  can  be  abolished  before  externality.  The  proof 
for  the  absoluteness  of  thought,  the  subject,  the  mind, 
is,  on  its  side,  pretty  well  perfect.  It  is  not  necessary 
here,  however,  to  enter  into  that  proof  at  length.  Be- 
fore passing  on,  I  may  simply  point  to  the  fact  that,  if 
thought  is  to  be  called  a  function  of  matter,  it  must  be 
acknowledged  to  be  a  function  wholly  peculiar  and  un- 
like any  other.  In  all  other  functions,  we  are  present 
to  processes  which  are  in  the  same  sense  physical  as 
the  organs  themselves.  So  it  is  with  lung,  stomach, 
liver,  kidney,  where  every  step  can  be  followed,  so  to 
speak,  with  eye  and  hand  ;  but  all  is  changed  when  we 
have  to  do  with  mind  as  the  function  of  brain.  Then, 
indeed,  as  Mr.  Huxley  thought  in  his  Physiology,  we  are 
admitted,  as  if  by  touch  of  Aladdin's  lamp,  to  a  world 
absolutely  different  and  essentially  new — to  a  world,  on 
its  side  of  the  incommunicable  cleft,  as  complete,  en- 
tire, independent,  self-contained,  and  absolutely  sui 
generis,  as  the  world  of  matter  on  the  other  side.  It 
will  be  sufficient  here  to  allude  to  as  much  as  this,  with 
special  reference  to  the  fact  that,  so  far  as  this  argu- 
ment is  concerned,  protoplasm  has  not  introduced  any 
the  very  slightest  difference.  All  the  ancient  reasons 
for  the  independence  of  thought  as  against  organiza- 
tion, can  be  used  with  even  more  striking  effect  as 
against  protoplasm  ;  but  it  will  be  sufficient  to  indicate 
this,  so  much  are  the  arguments  in  question  a  common 


(53)  J25 

property  now.  Thought,  in  fact,  brings  with  it  its  own 
warrant ;  or  it  brings  with  it,  to  use  the  phrase  of  Burns, 
"  its  patent  of  nobility  direct  from  Almighty  God." 
And  that  is  the  strongest  argument  on  this  whole  side. 
Throughout  the  entire  universe,  organic  and  inorganic, 
thought  is  the  controlling  sovereign  ;  nor  does  matter 
anywhere  refuse  its  allegiance.  So  it  is  in  thought,  too, 
that  man  has  his  patent  of  nobility,  believes  that  he  is 
created  in  the  image  of  God,  and  knows  himself  a  free- 
man of  infinitude. 

But  the  analogy,  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Huxley,  has,  we 
have  seen,  a  second  reference — that,  namely,  to  the  ex- 
citants, if  we  may  call  them  so,  which  determine  combi- 
nation. The  modus  operandi,  Mr.  Huxley  tells  us,  of 
preexisting  protoplasm  in  determining  the  formation  of 
new  protoplasm,  is  not  more  unintelligible  than  the 
modus  operandi  of  the  electric  spark  in  determining  the 
formation  of  water  ;  and  so  both,  we  are  left  to  infer, 
are  perfectly  analogous.  The  inferential  turn  here  is 
rather  a  favorite  with  Mr.  Huxley.  "  But  objectors  of 
this  class,"  he  says  on  an  earlier  occasion,  in  allusion 
to  those  who  hesitate  to  conclude  from  dead  to  living 
matter,  "  do  not  seem  to  reflect  that  it  is  also,  in  strict- 
ness, true  that  we  know  nothing  about  the  composition 
of  any  body  whatever  as  it  is."  In  the  same  neighbor- 
hood, too,  he  argues  that,  though  impotent  to  restore 
to  decomposed  calc-spar  its  original  form,  we  do  not 
hesitate  to  accept  the  chemical  analysis  assigned  to  it, 
and  should  not,  consequently,  any  more  hesitate  be- 
cause of  any  mere  difference  of  form  to  accept  the  anal- 
ysis of  dead  for  that  of  living  protoplasm.  It  is  cer- 
tainly fair  to  point  out  that,  if  we  bear  ignorance  and 
impotence  with  equanimity  in  one  case,  we  may  equally 


126  (54) 

so  bear  them  in  another  ;  but  it  is  not  fair  to  convert 
ignorance  into  knowledge,  nor  impotence  into  power. 
Yet  it  is  usual  to  take  such  statements  loosely,  and  let 
them  pass.  It  is  not  considered  that,  if  we  know  noth- 
ing about  the  composition  of  any  body  whatever  as  it 
is,  then  we  do  know  nothing,  and  that  it  is  strangely 
idle  to  offer  absolute  ignorance  as  a  support  for  the 
most  dogmatic  knowledge.  If  such  statements  are,  as 
is  really  expected  for  them,  to  be.  accepted,  yet  not  ac- 
cepted, they  are  the  stultification  of  all  logic.  Is  the 
chemistry  of  living  to  be  seen  to  be  the  same  as  the 
chemistry  of  dead  protoplasm,  because  we  know  noth- 
ing about  the  composition  of  any  body  whatever  as  it 
is  ?  We  know  perfectly  well  that  black  is  white,  for  we 
are  absolutely  ignorant  of  either  as  it  is  !  The  form  of 
the  calc-spar,  which  (the  spar)  we  can  analyze,  we  can- 
not restore  ;  therefore  the  form  of  the  protoplasm,  which 
we  cannot  analyze,  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter  in 
hand  ;  and  the  chemistry  of  what  is  dead  may  be  ac- 
cepted as  the  chemistry  of  what  is  living  !  In  the  case 
of  reasoning  so  irrelevant  it  is  hardly  worth  while  refer- 
ing  to  what  concerns  the  forms  themselves  ;  that  they 
are  totally  incommensurable,  that  in  all  forms  of  calc- 
spar  there  is  no  question  but  of  what  is  physical,  while 
in  protoplasm  the  change  of  form  is  introduction  into 
an  entire  new  world.  As  in  these  illustrations,  so  in 
the  case  immediately  before  us.  No  appeal  to  igno- 
rance in  regard  to  something  else,  the  electric  spark, 
should  be  allowed  to  transform  another  ignorance,  that 
of  the  action  of  preexisting  protoplasm,  into  knowledge, 
here  into  the  knowledge  that  the  two  unknown  things, 
because  of  non-knowledge,  are — perfectly  analogous  ! 
That  this  analogy  does  not  exist — that  the  electric  spark 


(  55  )  127 

and  preexisting  protoplasm  are,  in  their  relative  places, 
not  on  the  same  chemical  level — this  is  the  main  point 
for  us  to  see  ;  and  Mr.  Huxley's  allusion  to  our  igno- 
rance must  not  be  allowed  to  blind  us  to  it.  Here  we 
have  in  a  glass  vessel  so  much  hydrogen  and  oxygen, 
into  which  we  discharge  an  electric  spark,  and  water  is 
the  result.  Now  what  analogy  is  it  possible  to  perceive 
between  this  production  of  water  by  external  experi- 
ment and  the  production  of  protoplasm  by  protoplasm  ? 
The  discrepancy  is  so  palpable  that  it  were  impertinent 
to  enlarge  on  it.  The  truth  is  just  this,  that  the  meas- 
ured and  mixed  gases,  the  vessel,  and  the  spark,  in  the 
one  case,  are  as  unlike  the  fortuitous  food,  the  living 
organs,  and  the  long  process  of  assimilation  in  the 
other  case,  as  the  product  water  is  unlike  the  product 
protoplasm.  No  ;  that  the  action  of  the  electric  spark 
should  be  unknown,  is  no  reason  why  we  should  not  in- 
sist on  protoplasm  for  protoplasm,  on  life  for  life.  Pro- 
toplasm can  only  be  produced  by  protoplasm,  and  each 
of  all  the  innumerable  varieties  of  protoplasm,  only  by 
its  own  kind.  For  the  protoplasm  of  the  worm  we 
must  go  to  the  worm,  and  for  that  of  the  toad-stool  to 
the  toad-stool.  In  fact,  if  all  living  beings  come  from 
protoplasm,  it  is  quite  as  certain  that,  but  for  living  be- 
ings, protoplasm  would  disappear.  Without  an  egg  you 
cannot  have  a  hen — that  is  true  ;  but  it  is  equally  true 
that,  without  a  hen,  you  cannot  have  an  egg.  So  in 
protoplasm  ;  which,  consequently,  in  the  production  of 
itself,  offers  no  analogy  to  the  production,  or  precipita- 
tion by  the  electric  spark,  not  of  itself,  but  of  water. 
Besides,  if  for  protoplasm,  preexisting  protoplasm,  is 
always  necessary,  how  was  there  ever  a  first  proto- 
plasm ? 


128  •  .    (56) 

Generally,  then,  Mr.  Huxley's  analogy  does  not  hold, 
whether  in  the  one  reference  or  the  other,  and  Mr. 
Huxley  has  no  warrant  for  the  reduction  of  protoplasm 
to  the  mere  chemical  level  which  he  assigns  it  in  either. 
That  level  is  brought  very  prominently  forward  in  such 
expressions  as  these :  That  it  is  only  necessary  to 
bring  the  chemical  elements  "  together,"  "  under  cer- 
tain conditions,"  to  give  rise  to  the  more  complex  body, 
protoplasm,  just  as  there  is  a  similar  expedient  to  give 
rise  to  water ;  and  that,  under  the  influence  of  pre- 
existing living  protoplasm,  carbonic  acid,  water,  and 
ammonia  disappear,  and  an  equivalent  weight  of  proto- 
plasm makes  its  appearance,  just  as,  under  the  influence 
of  the  electric  spark,  hydrogen  and  oxygen  disappear, 
and  an  equivalent  weight  of  water  makes  its  appear- 
ance. All  this,  plainly,  is  to  assume  for  protoplasm 
such  mere  chemical  place  and  nature  as  consist  not 
with  the  facts.  The  cases  are,  in  truth,  not  parallel, 
and  the  "  certain  conditions"  are  wholly  diverse.  All 
that  is  said  we  can  do  at  will  for  water,  but  nothing  of 
what  is  said  can  we  do  at  will  for  protoplasm.  To  say 
we  can  feed  protoplasm,  and  so  make  protoplasm  at  will 
produce  protoplasm,  is  very  much,  in  the  circumstances, 
only  to  say,  and  is  not  to  say,  that,  in  this  way,  we  make 
a  chemical  experiment.  To  insist  on  a  chemical  anal- 
ogy, in  fact,  between  water  and  protoplasm,  is  to  omit 
the  differences  not  covered  by  the  analogy  at  all — 
thought,  design,  life,  and  all  the  processes  of  organiza- 
tion ;  and  it  is  but  simple  procedure  to  omit  these  dif- 
ferences only  by  an  appeal  to  ignorance  elsewhere. 

It  is  hardly  worth  while,  perhaps,  to  refer  now  again 
to  the  difference — here,  however,  once  more  incident- 
ally suggested — between  protoplasm  and  protoplasm. 


(  57  )  129 

Mr.  Huxley,  that  is,  almost  in  his  very  last  word  on  this 
part  of  the  argument,  seems  to  become  aware  of  the 
bearing  of  this  on  what  relates  to  materiality,  and  he 
would  again  stamp  protoplasm  (and  with  it  life  and  in- 
tellect), into  an  indifferent  identity.  In  order  that  there 
should  be  no  break  between  the  lowest  functions  and 
the  highest  (the  functions  of  the  fungus  and  the  func- 
tions of  man),  he  has  "  endeavored  to  prove,"  he  says, 
that  the  protoplasm  of  the  lowest  organisms  is  "  essen- 
tially identical  with,  and  most  readily  converted  into 
that  of  any  animal."  On  this  alleged  reciprocal  con- 
vertibility of  protoplasm,  then,  Mr.  Huxley  would  again 
found  as  well  an  inference  of  identity,  as  the  further 
conclusion  that  the  functions  of  the  highest,  not  less 
than  those  of  the  lowest  animals,  are  but  the  molecular 
manifestations  of  their  common  protoplasm. 

Plainly  here  it  is  only  the  consideration,  not  of  func- 
tion, but  of  the  alleged  reciprocal  convertibility  that  is 
left  us  now.  Is  this  true,  then  ?  Is  it  true  that  every 
organism  can  digest  every  other  organism,  and  that 
thus  a  relation  of  identity  is  established  between  that 
which  digests  and  whatever  is  digested  ?  These  ques- 
tions place  Mr.  Huxley's  general  enterprise,  perhaps, 
in  the  most  glaring  light  yet ;  for  it  is  very  evident  that 
there  is  an  end  of  the  argument  if  all  foods  and  all 
feeders  are  essentially  identical  both  with  themselves 
and  with  each  other.  The  facts  of  the  case,  however, 
I  believe  to  be  too  well  known  to  require  a  single  word 
here  on  my  part.  It  is  not  long  since  Mr.  Huxley  him- 
self pointed  out  the  great  difference  between  the  foods 
of  plants  and  the  foods  of  animals  ;  and  the  reader 
may  be  safely  left  to  think  for  himself  of  ruminantia 
and  carnivora,  of  soft  bills  and  hard  bills,  of  molluscs 


13°  (  58  ) 

and  men.  Mr.  Huxley  talks  feelingly  of  the  possibility 
of  himself  feeding  the  lobster  quite  as  much  as  of  the 
lobster  feeding  him  ;  but  such  pathos  is  not  always  ap- 
plicable ;  it  is  not  likely  that  a  sponge  would  be  to  the 
stomach  of  Mr.  Huxley  any  more  than  Mr.  Huxley  to 
the  stomach  of  a  sponge. 

But  a  more  important  point  is  this,  that  the  functions 
themselves  remain  quite  apart  from  the  alleged  convert- 
ibility. We  can  neither  acquire  the  functions  of  what 
we  eat,  nor  impart  our  functions  to  what  eats  us.  We 
shall  not  come  to  fly  by  feeding  on  vultures,  nor  they  to 
speak  by  feeding  on  us.  No  possible  manure  of  hu- 
man brains  will  enable  a  corn-field  to  reason.  But  if 
functions  are  inconvertible,  the  convertibility  of  the  pro- 
toplasm is  idle.  In  this  inconvertibility,  indeed,  functions 
will  be  seen  to  be  independent  of  mere  chemical  compo- 
sition. And  that  is  the  truth  :  for  functions  there  is  more 
required  than  either  chemistry  or  physics. 

It  is  to  be  acknowledged — to  notice  one  other  inci- 
dental suggestion,  for  the  sake  of  completeness,  and  by 
way  of  transition  to  the  final  consideration  of  possible 
objections — that  Mr.  Huxley  would  be  very  much  as- 
sisted in  his  identification  of  differences,  were  but  the 
theories  of  the  molecularists,  on  the  one  hand,  and  of 
Mr.  Darwin,  on  the  other,  once  for  all  established.  The 
three  modes  of  theorizing  indicated,  indeed,  are  not 
without  a  tendency  to  approach  one  another  ;  and  it  is 
precisely  their  union  that  would  secure  a  definitive  tri- 
umph for  the  doctrine  of  materialism.  Mr.  Huxley,  as 
we  have  seen — though  what  he  desiderates  is  an  auto- 
plastic  living  matter  that,  produced  by  ordinary  chem- 
ical processes,  is  yet  capable  of  continuing  and  develop- 
ing itself  into  new  and  higher  forms — still  begins  with 


(59)  J3' 

the  egg.  Now  the  theory  of  the  molecularists  would, 
for  its  part,  remove  all  the  difficulties  that,  for  material- 
ism, are  involved  in  this  beginning  ;  it  would  place  pro- 
toplasm undeniably  at  length  on  a  merely  chemical 
level ;  and  would  fairly  enable  Mr.  Darwin,  supple- 
mented by  such  a  life-stuff,  to  account  by  natural  means 
for  everything  like  an  idea  or  thought  that  appears  in 
creation.  The  misfortune  is,  however,  that  we  must 
believe  the  theory  of  the  molecularists  still  to  await  the 
proof ;  while  the  theory  of  Mr.  Darwin  has  many  diffi- 
culties peculiar  to  itself.  This  theory,  philosophically, 
or  in  ultimate  analysis,  is  an  attempt  to  prove  that  de- 
sign, or  the  objective  idea,  especially  in  the  organic 
world,  is  developed  in  time  by  natural  means.  The  time 
which  Mr.  Darwin  demands,  it  is  true,  is  an  infinite 
time  j  and  he  thus  gains  the  advantage  of  his  processes 
being  allowed  greater  clearness  for  the  understanding,  in 
consequence  of  the  obscurity  of  the  infinite  past  in 
which  they  are  placed,  and  of  which  it  is  difficult  in  the 
first  instance  to  deny  any  possibility  whatever.  Still  it 
remains  to  be  asked,  Are  such  processes  credible  in  any 
time  ?  What  Mr.  Darwin  has  done  in  aid  of  his  view 
is,  first,  to  lay  before  us  a  knowledge  of  facts  in  natural 
history  of  surprising  richness  ;  and,  second,  to  support 
this  knowledge  by  an  inexhaustible  ingenuity  of  hypoth- 
esis in  arrangement  of  appearances.  Now,  in  both  re- 
spects, whether  for  information  or  even  interest,  the 
value  of  Mr.  Darwin's  contribution  will  probably  always 
remain  independent  of  the  argument  or  arguments  that 
might  destroy  his  leading  proposition  ;  and  it  is  with 
this  proposition  that  we  have  here  alone  to  do.  As 
said,  we  ask  only,  Is  it  true  that  the  objective  idea,  the 
design  which  we  see  in  the  organized  world,  is  the  re- 


i32  (  60  ) 

suit  in  infinite  time  of  the  necessary  adaption  of  living 
structures  to  the  peculiarities  of  the  conditions  by  which 
they  are  surrounded  ? 

Against  this  theory,  then,  its  own  absolute  generali- 
zation may  be  viewed  as  our  first  objection.  In  ulti- 
mate abstraction,  that  is,  the  only  agency  postulated  by 
Mr.  Darwin  is  time — infinite  time ;  and  as  regards  ac- 
tually existent  beings  and  actually  existent  conditions, 
it  is  hardly  possible  to  deny  any  possibility  whatever  to 
infinitude.  If  told,  for  example,  that  the  elephant,  if 
only  obliged  infinitely  to  run,  might  be  converted  into 
the  stag,  how  should  we  be  able  to  deny  ?  So  also,  if 
the  lengthening  of  the  giraffe's  neck  were  hypothetically 
attributed  to  a  succession  of  dearths  in  infinite  time 
that  only  left  the  leaves  of  trees  for  long-necked  ani- 
mals to  live  on,  we  should  be  similarly  situated  as  re- 
gards denial.  Still  it  can  be  pointed  out  that  ingenuity 
of  natural  conjecture  has,  in  such  cases,  no  less  wide  a 
field  for  the  negation  than  for  the  affirmation  ;  and 
that,  on  the  question  of  fact,  nothing  is  capable  of  be- 
ing determined.  But  we  can  also  say  more  than  that — 
we  can  say  that  any  fruitful  application  even  of  infinite 
time  to  the  general  problem  of  difference  in  the  world  is 
inconceivable.  To  explain  all  from  an  absolute  begin- 
ning requires  us  to  commence  with  nothing  ;  but  to  this 
nothing  time  itself  is  an  addition.  Time  is  an  entity,  a 
something,  a  difference  added  to  the  original  identity  : 
whence  or  how  came  time  ?  Time  cannot  account  for 
its  own  self;  how  is  it  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  time  ? 
Then  no  conceivable  brooding  even  of  infinite  time 
could  hatch  the  infinitude  of  space.  How  is  it  there  is 
such  a  thing  as  space  ?  No  possible  clasps  of  time  and 
space,  further,  could  ever  conceivably  thicken  into  mat- 


(  61  )  133 

ter.  How  is  it  there  is  such  a  thing  as  matter  ?  Lastly, 
so  far,  no  conceivable  brooding,  or  even  gyrating,  of  a 
single  matter  in  time  and  space  could  account  for  the 
specification  of  matter — carbon,  gold,  iodine,  etc. — as 
we  see  and  know  it.  Time,  space,  matter,  and  the 
whole  inorganic  world,  thus  remain  impassive  to  the  ac- 
tion even  of  infinite  time ;  all  these  differences  remain 
incapable  of  being  accounted  for  so. 

But  suppose  no  curiosity  had  ever  been  felt  in  this 
reference,  which,  though  scientifically  indefensible,  is 
quite  possible,  how  about  the  transition  of  the  inorganic 
into  the  organic  ?  Mr.  Huxley  tells  us  that,  for  food, 
the  plant  needs  nothing  but  its  bath  of  smelling-salts. 
Suppose  this  bath  now — a  pool  of  a  solution  of  carbon- 
ate of  ammonia ;  can  any  action-  of  sun,  or  air,  or  elec- 
tricity, be  conceived  to  develop  a  cell — or  even  so  much 
lump-protoplasm — in  this  solution  ?  The  production  of 
an  initial  cell  in  any  such  manner  will  not  allow  itself  to 
be  realized  to  thought.  Then  we  have  just  to  think  for 
a  moment  of  the  vast  differences  into  which,  for  the 
production  of  the  present  organized  world,  this  cell 
must  be  distributed,  to  shake  our  heads  and  say  we  can- 
not well  refuse  anything  to  an  infinite  time,  but  still  we 
must  pronounce  a  problem  of  this  reach  hopeless. 

It  is  precisely  in  conditions,  however,  that  Mr.  Dar- 
win claims  a  solution  of  this  problem.  Conditions  con- 
cern all  that  relates  to  air,  heat,  light,  land,  water,  and 
whatever  they  imply.  Our  second  objection,  conse- 
quently, is,  that  conditions  are  quite  inadequate  to  ac- 
count for  present  organized  differences,  from  a  single 
cell.  Geological  time,  for  example,  falls  short,  after  all, 
of  infinite  time  ;  or,  in  known  geological  eras,  let  us 
calculate  them  as  liberally  as  we  may,  there  is  not  time 


J34  (  62  ) 

enough  to  account  for  the  presently-existing  varieties, 
from  one,  or  even  several,  primordial  forms.  So  to 
speak,  it  is  not  in  geological  time  to  account  for  the 
transformation  of  the  elephant  into  the  stag  from  ac- 
celeration, or  for  that  of  the  stag  into  the  elephant  from 
retardation,  of  movement.  And  we  may  speak  sim- 
ilarly of  the  growth  of  the  neck  of  the  giraffe,  or  even 
of  the  elevation  of  the  monkey  into  man.  Moreover, 
time  apart,  conditions  have  no  such  power  in  themselves. 
It  is  impossible  to  conceive  of  animal  or  vegetable 
effluvia  ever  creating  the  nerve  by  which  they  are  felt, 
and  so  gradually  the  Schneiderian  membrane,  nose,  and 
whole  olfactory  apparatus.  Yet  these  effluvia  are  the 
conditions  of  smell,  and,  ex  hypothesi,  ought  to  have 
created  it.  Did  light,  or  did  the  pulsations  of  the  air, 
ever  by  any  length  of  time,  indent  into  the  sensitive 
cell,  eyes,  and  a  pair  of  eyes — ears,  and  a  pair  of  ears  ? 
Light  conceivably  might  shine  for  ever  without  such  a 
wonderfully  complicated  result  as  an  eye.  Similarly, 
for  delicacy  and  marvellous  ingenuity  of  structure,  the 
ear  is  scarcely  inferior  to  the  eye  ;  and  surely  it  is  pos- 
sible to  think  of  a  whole  infinitude  of  those  fitful  and 
fortuitous  air-tremblings,  which  we  call  sound,  without 
indentation  into  anything  whatever  of  such  an  organ. 

A  third  objection  to  Mr.  Darwin's  theory  is,  that  the 
play  of  natural  contingency  in  regard  to  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  conditions,  has  no  title  to  be  named  selection. 
Naturalists  have  long  known  and  spoken  of  the  "  influ- 
ence of  accidental  causes  ;  but  Mr.  Darwin  was  the 
first  to  apply  the  term  selection  to  the  action  of  these, 
and  thus  convert  accident  into  design.  The  agency  to 
which  Mr.  Darwin  attributes  all  the  changes  which  he 
would  signalize  in  animals  is  really  the  fortuitous  con.- 


«3  135 

tingency  of  brute  nstvare  ;  and  it  is  altogether  fallacious 
to  call  such  process,  or  such  non-process,  by  a  term  in- 
volving foresight  and  a  purpose.  We  have  here,  indeed, 
only  a  metaphor  wholly  misapplied.  The  German  wri- 
ter who,  many  years  ago,  said  "  even  the  genera  are 
wholly  a  prey  to  the  changes  of  the  external  universal 
life,"  saw  precisely  what  Mr.  Darwin  sees,  but  it  never 
struck  him  to  style  contingency  selection.  Yet,  how 
dangerous,  how  infectious,  has  not  this  ungrounded 
metaphor  proved  !  It  has  become  a  principle,  a  law,  and 
been  transferred  by  very  genuine  men  into  their  own 
sciences  of  philology  and  what  not.  People  will  won- 
der at  all  this  by-and-by.  But  to  point  out  the  inappli- 
cability of  such  a  word  to  the  processes  of  nature  re- 
ferred to  by  Mr.  Darwin,  is  to  point  out  also  the  impos- 
sibility of  any  such  contingencies  proceeding,  by 
graduated  rise,  from  stage  to  stage,  into  the  great  sym- 
metrical organic  system — the  vast  plan — the  grand  har- 
monious whole — by  which  we  are  surrounded.  This 
rise,  this  system,  is  really  the  objective  idea ;  but  it  is 
utterly  incapable  of  being  accounted  for  by  any  such 
agency  as  natural  contingency  in  geological,  or  infinite, 
or  any  time.  But  it  is  this  which  the  word  selection 
tends  to  conceal. 

We  may  say,  lastly,  in  objection,  here,  that,  in  the  fact 
of  "  reversion"  or  "  atavism,"  Mr.  Darwin  acknowledges 
his  own  failure.  We  thus  see  that  the  species  as  spe- 
cies is  something  independent,  and  holds  its  own  insita 
vis  natures  within  itself. 

Probably  it  is  not  his  theory,  then,  that  gives  value 
to  Mr.  Darwin's  book  ;  nor  even  his  ready  ingenuity, 
whatever  interest  it  may  lend  :  it  is  the  material  infor- 
mation it  contains.  The  ingenuity,  namely,  verges 


136  (  64  ) 

somewhat  on  that  Humian  expedient  of  natural  con- 
jecture so  copiously  exemplified,  on  occasion  of  a  few 
trite  texts,  in  Mr.  Buckle.  But  that  natural  conjecture 
is  always  insecure,  equivocal,  and  many-sided.  It  may 
be  said  that  ancient  warfare,  for  example,  giving  victory 
always  to  the  personally  ablest  and  bravest,  must  have 
resulted  in  the  improvement  of  the  race  ;  or  that,  the 
weakest  being  always  necessarily  left  at  home,  the  im- 
provement was  balanced  by  deterioration  ;  or  that  the 
ablest  were  necessarily  the  most  exposed  to  danger,  and 
so,  etc.,  etc.,  according,  to  ingenuity  usque  ad  infinitum. 
Trustworthy  conclusion  is  not  possible  to  this  method, 
but  only  to  the  induction  of  facts,  or  to  scientific  de- 
monstration. 

Neither  molecularists  nor  Darwinians,  then,  are  able 
to  level  out  the  difference  between  organic  and  inorganic, 
or  between  genera  and  genera  or  species  and  species. 
The  differences  persist  despite  of  both  ;  the  distributed 
identity  remains  unaccounted  for.  Nor,  consequently, 
is  Mr.  Darwin's  theory  competent  to  explain  the  objec- 
tive idea  by  any  reference  to  time  and  conditions.  Liv- 
ing beings  do  exist  in  a  mighty  chain  from  the  moss  to 
the  man ;  but  that  chain,  far  from  founding,  is  founded 
in  the  idea,  and  is  not  the  result  of  any  mere  natural 
growth  of  this  into  that.  That  chain  is  itself  the  most 
brilliant  stamp,  the  sign-manual,  of  design.  On  every 
ledge  of  nature,  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest,  there  is 
a  life  that  is  its, — a  creature  to  represent  it,  reflect  it — 
so  to  speak,  pasture  on  it.  The  last,  highest,  brightest 
link  of  this  chain  is  man  ;  the  incarnation  of  thought  it- 
self, which  is  the  summation  of  this  universe  ;  man,  that 
includes  in  himself  all  other  links  and  their  single  secret 
— the  personified  universe,  the  subject  of  the  world. 


(  65  )  '37 

Mr.  Huxley  makes  but  small  reference  to  thought ;  he 
only  tucks  it  in,  as  it  were,  as  a  mere  appendicle  of 
course. 

It  may  be  objected,  indeed — to  reach  the  last  stage  in 
this  discussion — that,  if  Mr.  Huxley  has  not  disproved 
the  conception  of  thought  and  life  "  as  a  something 
which  works  through  matter,  but  is  independent  of  it," 
neither  have  we  proved  it.  But  it  is  easy  for  us  to  re- 
ply that,  if  "independent  of"  means  here  "unconnected 
with"  we  have  had  no  such  ojpject.  We  have  had  no 
object  whatever,  in  fact,  but  to  resist,  now  the  extrava- 
gant assertion  that  all  organized  tissue,  from  the  lichen 
to  Leibnitz,  is  alike  in  facult^'and  again  the  equally  ex- 
travagant assertion  that  life  ^nd  thought  are  but  ordi- 
nary products  of  molecular  chemistry.  As  regards  the 
latter  assertion,  we  have  endeavored  to  show  that  the 
processes  of  vital  organization  (as  self-production,  etc.) 
belong  to  another  sphere,  higher  than,  and  very  differ- 
ent from,  those  of  mechanical  juxtaposition  or  chemical 
neutralization  ;  that  life,  then,  is  no  mere  product  of 
matter  as  matter ;  that  if  no  life  can  be  pointed  to  in- 
dependent of  matter,  neither  is  there  any  life-stuff  inde- 
pendent of  life ;  and  that  life,  consequently,  adds  a  new 
and  higher  force  to  chemistry,  as  chemistry  a  new  and 
higher  force  to  mechanics,  etc.  As  for  thought,  the  en- 
deavor was  to  show  tha?it  was  as  independent  on  the 
one  side  as  matter  on  the  other,  that  it  controlled,  used, 
summed,  and  was  the  reason  of  matter.  Thought,  then, 
is  not  to  be  reached  by  any  bridge  from  matter,  that  is 
a  hybrid  of  both,  and  explains  the  connection.  The  re- 
lation of  matter  to  mind  is  not  to  be  explained  as  a 
transition,  but  as  a  contreconp.  In  this  relation,  how- 
ever, it  is  not  the  material,  but  the  mental  side,  which 
the  whole  universe  declares  to  be  the  dominant  one. 


138  (  66  > 

As  regards  any  objection  to  the  arguments  whicn  we 
have  brought  against  the  identity  of  protoplasm,  again, 
these  will  lie  in  the  phrase,  probably,  "  difference  not  of 
kind,  but  degree,"  or  in  the  word  "modification."  The 
"  phrase"  may  be  now  passed,  for  generic  or  specific 
difference  must  be  allowed  in  protoplasm,  if  not  for  the 
overwhelming  reason  that  an  infinitude  of  various  kinds 
exist  in  it,  each  of  which  is  self-productive  and  uninter- 
changeable  with  the  rest,  then  for  Mr.  Huxley's  own 
reason,  that  plants  assimilate  inorganic  matter  and  ani- 
mals only  organic.  As  for  the  objection  "  modification," 
again,  the  same  consideration  of  generic  difference 
must  prove  fatal  to  it.  This  were  otherwise,  indeed, 
could  but  the  molecularists  and  Mr.  Darwin  succeed  in 
destroying  generic  difference  ;  but  in  this,  as  we  have 
seen,  they  have  failed.  And  this  will  be  always  so  : 
who  dogs  identity,  difference  dogs  him.  It  is  quite  a 
justifiable  endeavor,  for  example,  to  point  out  the  iden- 
tity that  obtains  between  veins  and  arteries  on  the  one 
hand,  as  between  these  and  capillaries  on  the  other  ; 
but  all  the  time  the  difference  is  behind  us  ;  and  when 
we  turn  to.  look,  we  see,  for  circulation,  the  valves  of  the 
veins  and  the  elastic  coats  of  the  arteries  as  opposed  to 
one  another,  and,  for  irrigation,  the  permeable  walls  of 
the  capillaries  as  opposed  to  both. 

Generic  differences  exist  then,  and  we  cannot  allow 
the  word  "  modification"  to  efface  them  in  the  interest 
of  the  identity  claimed  for  protoplasm.  Brain-proto- 
plasm is  not  bone-protoplasm,  nor  the  protoplasm  of 
the  fungus  the  protoplasm  of  man.  Similarly,  it  is  very 
questionable  how  far  the  word  "  modification"  will  war- 
rant us  in  regarding  with  Mr.  Huxley  the  "  ducts,  fibres, 
pollen,  and  ovules"  of  the  nettle  as  identical  with  the 


v  °7  ;  139 

protoplasm  of  its  sting.  Things  that  originate  alike 
may  surely  eventuate  in  others  which,  chemically  and 
vitally,  far  from  being  mere  modifications,  must  be  pro- 
nounced totally  different.  Such  eventuation  must  be 
held  competent  to  what  can  only  be  named  generic  or 
specific  difference.  The  "  child  "  is  only  "father  of  the 
man  " — it  is  not  the  man  •  who,  moreover^  in  the  course 
of  an  ordinary  life,  we  are  told,  has  totally  changed  him- 
self, not  once,  but  many  times,  retaining  at  the  last  not 
one  single  particle  of  matter  with  which  he  set  out. 
Such  eventuations,  whether  called  modifications  or  not, 
certainly  involve  essential  difference.  And  so  situated 
are  the  "  ducts,  fibres,  pollen,  and  ovules  "  of  the  nettle, 
which,  whether  compared  with  the  protoplasm  of  the 
nettle-sting,  or  with  that  in  which  they  originated,  must 
be  held  to  here  assumed,  by  their  own  actions,  indisputa- 
ble differences,  physical,  chemical,  and  vital,  or  in  form, 
substance,  and  faculty. 

Much,  in  fact,  depends  on  definition  here ;  and,  in 
reference  to  modification,  it  may  be  regarded  as  arbi- 
trary when  identity  shall  be  admitted  to  cease  and  dif- 
ference to  begin.  There  are  the  old  Greek  puzzles  of 
the  Bald  Head  and  the  Heap,  for  example.  How  many 
grains,  or  how  many  hairs,  may  we  remove  before  a  heap 
of  wheat  is  no  heap,  or  a  head  of  hair  bald  ?  These 
concern  quantity  alone  ;  but,  in  other  cases,  bone,  mus- 
cle, brain,  fungus,  tree,  man,  there  is  not  only  a  quantita- 
tive, but  a  qualitative  difference ;  and  in  regard  to  such 
differences,  the  word  modification  can  be  regarded  as 
but  a  cloak,  under  which  identity  is  to  be  shuffled  into 
difference,  but  remain  identity  all  the  same.  The  brick 
is  but  modified  clay,  Mr.  Huxley  intimates,  bake  it  and 
paint  it  as  you  may  j  but  is  the  difference  introduced  by 


140  (  68  ) 

the  baking  and  painting  to  be  ignored  ?  Is  what  Mr. 
Huxley  calls  the  "  artifice  "  not  to  be  taken  into  account, 
leave  alone  the  "potter?"  The  strong  firm  rope  is 
about  as  exact  an  example  of  modification  proper — 
modification  of  the  weak  loose  hemp — as  can  well  be 
found ;  but  are  we  to  exclude  from  our  consideration 
the  whole  element  of  difference  due  to  the  hand  and 
brain  of  man  ?  Not  far  from  Burn's  Monument,  on  the 
Calton  Hill  of  Edinburgh,  there  lies  a  mass  of  stones 
which  is  potentially  a  church,  the  former  Trinity  Col- 
lege Church.  Were  this  church  again  realized,  would 
it  be  fair  to  call  it  a  mere  modification  of  the  previous 
stones?  Look  now  to  the  egg  and  the  full-feathered 
fowl.  Chaucer  describes  to  us  the  cock,  "  hight  chaun- 
teclere,"  that  was  to  his  "  faire  Pertelotte  "  so  dear  : — 

"His  comb  was  redder  than  the  fine  corall, 
Embattled,  as  it  were  a  castle -wall ; 
His  bill  was  black,  and  as  the  jet  it  shone ; 
Like  azure  were  his  legges  and  his  tone  (toes)  ; 
His  nailes  whiter  than  the  lilie  flour, 
And  like  the  burned  gold  was  his  color." 

Would  it  be  even  as  fair  to  call  this  fine  fellow — 
comb,  wattles,  spurs,  and  all — a  modified  yolk,  as  to 
call  the  church  but  modified  stones  ?  If,  in  the  latter 
case,  an  element  of  difference,  altogether  undeniable, 
seems  to  have  intervened,  is  not  such  intervention  at 
least  quite  as  well  marked  in  the  former  ?  It  requires 
but  a  slight  analysis  to  detect  that  all  the  stones  in 
question  are  marked  and  numbered  ;  but  will  any  analy- 
sis point  out  within  the  shell  the  various  parts  that  only 
need  arrangement  to  become  the  fowl  ?  Are  the  men 
that  may  take  the  stones,  and,  in  a  re-erected  Trinity 
College  Church,  realize  anew  the  idea  of  Us  architect, 


(  69  )  141 

in  any  respect  more  wonderful  than  the  unknown  dis- 
posers of  the  materials  of  the  fowl  ?  That  what  rea- 
lizes the  idea  should,  in  the  one  case,  be  from  without, 
and,  in  the  other,  from  within,  is  no  reason  for  seeing 
more  modification  and  less  wonder  in  the  latter  than  the 
former.  There  is  certainly  no  more  reason  for  seeing 
the  fowl  in  the  egg,  and  as  identical  with  the  egg,  than 
for  seeing  a  re-built  Trinity  College  Church  as  identical 
with  its  unarranged  materials.  A  part  cannot  be  taken 
for  the  whole,  whether  in  space  or  in  time.  Mr.  Huxley 
misses  this.  He  is  so  absorbed  in  the  identity  out  of 
which,  that  he  will  not  see  the  difference  into  which, 
progress  is  made.  As  the  idea  of  the  church  has  the 
stones,  so  the  idea  of  the  fowl  has  the  egg,  for  its  com- 
mencement. But  to  this  idea,  and  in  both  cases,  the 
terminal  additions  belong,  quite  as  much  as  the  initial 
materials.  If  the  idea,  then,  add  sulphur,  phosphorus, 
iron,  and  what  not,  it  must  be  credited  with  these  not 
less  than  with  the  carbon,  hydrogen,  etc.,  with  which  it 
began.  It  is  not  fair  to  mutter  modification,  as  if  it 
were  a  charm  to  destroy  all  the  industry  of  time.  The 
protoplasm  of  the  egg  of  the  fowl  is  no  more  the  fowl 
than  the  stones  the  church ;  and  to  identify,  by  juggle 
of  a  mere  word,  parts  in  time  and  wholes  in  time  so  dif- 
ferent, is  but  self-deception.  Nay,  in  protoplasm,  as  we 
have  so  often  seen,  difference  is  as  much  present  at  first 
as  at  last.  Even  in  its  germ,  even  in  its  initial  identity, 
to  call  it  so,  protoplasm  is  already  different,  for  it  issues 
in  differences  infinite. 

Omission  of  the  consideration  of  difference,  it  is  to  be 
acknowledged,  is  not  now-a-days  restricted  to  Mr.  Hux- 
ley. In  the  wonder  that  is  usually  expressed,  for  exam- 
ple, at  Oken's  identification  of  the  skull  with  so  many 


vertebrae,  it  is  forgot  that  there  is  still  implicated  the 
wonder  which  we  ought  to  feel  at  the  unknown  power 
that  could,  in  the  end,  so  differentiate  them.  If  the 
cornea  of  the  eye  and  the  enamel  of  the  teeth  are  alike 
but  modified  protoplasm,  we  must  be  pardoned  for 
thinking  more  of  the  adjective  than  of  the  substantive. 
Our  wonder  is  how,  for  one  idea,  protoplasm  could  be- 
come one  thing  here,  and,  for  another  idea,  another  so 
different  thing  there.  We  are  more  curious  about  the 
modification  than  the  protoplasm.  In  the  difference, 
rather  than  in  the  identity,  it  is,  indeed,  that  the  wonder 
lies.  Here  are  several  thousand  pieces  of  protoplasm  ; 
analysis  can  detect  no  difference  in  them.  They  are  to 
us,  let  us  say,  as  they  are  to  Mr.  Huxley,  identical  in 
power,  in  form,  and  in  substance  ;  and  yet  on  all  these 
several  thousand  little  bits  of  apparently  indistinguish- 
able matter  an  element  of  difference  so  pervading  and 
so  persistent  has  been  impressed,  that,  of  them  all,  not 
one  is  interchangeable  with  another  !  Each  seed  feeds 
its  own  kind.  The  protoplasm  of  the  gnat  will  no  more 
grow  into  the  fly  than  it  will  grow  into  an  elephant. 
Protoplasm  is  protoplasm :  yes,  but  man's  protoplasm 
is  man's  protoplasm,  and  the  mushroom's  the  mush- 
room's. In  short,  it  is  quite  evident  that  the  word 
modification,  if  it  would  conceal,  is  powerless  to  with- 
draw, the  difference ;  which  difference,  moreover,  is  one 
of  kind  and  not  of  degree. 

This  consideration  of  possible  objections,  then,  is  the 
last  we  have  to  attend  to  ;  and  it  only  remains  to  draw 
'the  general  conclusion.  All  animal  and  vegetable  or- 
ganisms are  alike  in  power,  in  form,  and  in  substance, 
only  if  the  protoplasm  of  which  they  are  composed  is 
similarly  alike;  and  the  functions  of  all  animal  and 


7i  143 

vegetable  organisms  are  but  properties  of  the  molecular 
affections  of  their  chemical  constituents,  only  if  the  func- 
tions of  the  protoplasm,  of  which  they  are  composed, 
are  but  properties  of  the  molecular  affections  of  its 
chemical  constituents.  In  disproof  of  the  affirmative 
in  both  clauses,  there  has  been  no  object  but  to  demon- 
strate, on  the  one  hand,  the  infinite  non-identity  of  pro- 
toplasm, and,  on  the  other,  the  dependence  of  its  func- 
tions upon  other  factors  than  its  molecular  constituents. 
In  short,  the  whole  position  of  Mr.  Huxley,  that  all 
organisms  consist  alike  of  the  same  life-matter,  which 
life-matter  is,  for  its  part,  due  only  to  chemistry,  must 
be  pronounced  untenable — nor  less  untenable  the  mate- 
rialism he  would  found  on  it. 


ON  THE  HYPOTHESIS ^OF  EVOLUTION, 

PHYSICAL  AND  METAPHYSICAL. 


ON    THE 

HYPOTHESIS    OF   EVOLUTION: 

PHYSICAL  AND  METAPHYSICAL. 


"  Man  shall  not  live  by  bread  alone,  but  by  every  word  that  pro- 
ceedeth  out  of  the  mouth  of  God  shall  man  live." 

There  is  apparently  considerable  repugnance  in  the 
minds  of  many  excellent  people  to  the  acceptance,  or 
even  consideration,  of  the  hypothesis  of  development, 
or  that  of  the  gradual  creation  by  descent,  with  modifi- 
cation from  the  simplest  beginnings,  of  the  different 
forms  of  the  organic  world.  This  objection  probably 
results  from  two  considerations :  first,  that  the  human 
species  is  certainly  involved,  and  man's  descent  from 
"an  ape  asserted ;  and,  secondly,  that  the  scheme  in 
general  seems  to  conflict  with  that  presented  by  the 
Mosaic  account  of  the  Creation,  which  is  regarded  as 
communicated  to  its  author  by  an  infallible  inspiration. 

As  the  truth  of  the  hypothesis  is  held  to  be  infinitely 
probable  by  a  majority  of  the  exponents  of  the  natural 
sciences  at  the  present  day,  and  is  held  as  absolutely 
demonstrated  by  another  portion,  it  behooves  those  in- 
terested to  restrain  their  condemnation,  and  on  the 
other  hand  to  examine  its  evidences,  and  look  any  con- 
sequent necessary  modification  of  our  metaphysical  or 
theological  views  squarely  in  the  face. 


14*  (4) 

The  following  pages  state  a  few  of  the  former  ;  if 
they  suggest  some  of  the  latter,  it  is  hoped  that  they 
may  be  such  as  any  logical  mind  would  deduce  from 
the  premises.  That  they  will  coincide  with  the  spirit 
of  thr  most  advanced  Christianity,  I  have  no  doubt ; 
and  that  they  will  add  an  appeal  through  the  reason  y.o 
that  direct  influence  of  the  Divine  Spirit  which  should 
control  the  motives  of  human  action,  seems  an  unavoid- 
able conclusion. 

I.  PHYSICAL  EVOLUTION. 

It  is  well  known  that  a  species  is  usually  represented 
by  a  great  number  of  individuals,  distinguished  from 
all  other  similar  associations  by  more  or  less  numerous 
points  of  structure,  color,  size,  etc.,  and  by  habits  and 
instincts  also,  to  a  certain  extent ;  that  the  individuals 
of  such  associations  reproduce  their  like,  and  cannot  be 
produced  by  individuals  of  associations  or  species 
which  present  differences  of  structure,  color,  etc.,  as 
defined  by  naturalists ';  that  the  individuals  of  any  such 
series  or  species  are  incapable  of  reproducing  with 
those  of  any  other  species,  with  some  exceptions  ;  and 
that  in  the  latter  cases  the  offspring  are  usually  entirely 
infertile. 

The  hypothesis  of  Cuvier  assumes  that  each  species 
was  created  by  Divine  power  as  we  now  find  it  at  some 
definite  point  of  geologic  time.  The  paleontologist 
holding  this  view  sees,  in  accordance  therewith,  a  suc- 
cession of  creations  and  destructions  marking  the  his- 
tory of  life  on  our  planet  from  its  commencement. 

The  development  hypothesis  states  that  all  existing 
species  have  been  derived  from  species  of  preexistent 


(  5  )  149 

geological  periods,  as  offspring  or  by  direct  descent ; 
that  there  have  been  no  total  destructions  of  life  in  past 
time,  but  only  a  transfer  of  it  from  place  to  place,  owing 
to  changes  of  circumstance ;  that  the  types  of  structure 
become  simpler  and  more  similar  to  each  other  as  we 
trace  them  from  later  to  earlier  periods;  and  that 
finally  we  reach  the  simplest  forms  consistent  with  one 
or  several  original  parent  types  of  the  great  divisions 
into  which  living  beings  naturally  fall. 

It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  the  hypothesis  does  not 
include  change  of  species  by  hybridization,  nor  allow 
the  descent  of  living  species  from  any  other  living 
species  :  both  these  propositions  are  errors  of  misap- 
prehension or  misrepresentation. 

In  order  to  understand  the  history  of  creation  of  a 
complex  being,  it  is  necessary  to  analyze  it  and  ascer- 
tain of  what  it  consists.  In  analyzing  the  construction 
of  an  animal  or  plant  we  readily  arrange  its  characters 
into  those  which  it  possesses  in  common  with  other  ani- 
mals or  plants,  and  those  in  which  it  resembles  none 
other  :  the  latter  are  its  individual  characters,  constitu- 
ting its  individuality.  Next  we  find  a  large  body  of 
characters,  generally  of  a  very  obvious  kind,  which  it 
possesses  in  common  with  a  generally  large  number  of 
individuals,  which,  taken  collectively,  all  men  are  ac- 
customed to  call  a  species  ;  these  characters  we  conse- 
quently name  specific.  Thirdly,  we  find  characters, 
generally  in  parts  of  the  body  which  are  of  importance 
in  the  activities  of  the  animal,  or  which  lie  in  near  rela- 
tion to  its  mechanical  construction  in  details,  which  are 
shared  by  a  still  larger  number  of  individuals  than  those 
which  were  similar  in  specific  characters.  In  other 
words,  it  is  common  to  a  large  number  of  species.  This 


'5°  (  6  ) 

kind  of  character  we  call  generic,  and  the  grouping  it 
indicates  is  a  genus. 

Farther  analysis  brings  to  light  characters  of  organ- 
ism which  are  common  to  a  still  greater  number  of  indi- 
viduals ;  this  we  call  a  family  character.  Those  which 
are  common  to  still  more  numerous  individuals  are  the 
ordinal:  they  are  usually  found  in  parts  of  the  structure 
which  have  the  closest  connection  with  the  whole  life- 
history  of  the  being.  Finally,  the  individuals  compos- 
ing many  orders  will  be  found  identical  in  some  impor- 
tant character  of  the  systems  by  which  ordinary  life  is 
maintained,  as  in  the  nervous  and  circulatory :  the 
divisions  thus  outlined  are  called  classes. 

By  this  process  of  analysis  we  reach  in  our  animal  or 
plant  those  peculiarities  which  are  common  to  the  whole 
animal  or  vegetable  kingdom,  and  then  we  have  ex- 
hausted the  structure  so  completely  that  we  have  noth- 
ing remaining  to  take  into  account  beyond  the  cell- 
structure  or  homogeneous  protoplasm  by  which  we 
know  that  it  is  organic,  and  not  a  mineral. 

The  history  of  the  origin  of  a  type,  as  species,  genus, 
order,  etc.,  is  simply  the  history  of  the  origin  of  the 
structure  or  structures  which  define  those  groups  re- 
spectively. It  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  this, 
whether  a  man  or  an  insect  be  the  object  of  investi- 
gation. 

EVIDENCES     OF     DERIVATION. 

a.    Of  Specific  Characters. 

The  evidences  of  derivation  of  species  from  species, 
within  the  limits  of  the  genus,  are  abundant  and  con- 
clusive, In  the  first  place,  the  rule  which  naturalists. 


(7)  IS' 

observe  in  defining  species  is  a  clear  consequence  of 
such  a  state  of  things.  It  is  not  amount  and  degree  of 
difference  that  determine  the  definition  of  species  from 
species,  but  it  is  the  permanency  of  the  characters  in  all 
cases  and  under  all  circumstances.  Many  species  of 
the  systems  include  varieties  and  extremes  of  form,  etc., 
which,  were  they  at  all  times  distinct,  and  not  connected 
by  intermediate  forms,  would  be  estimated  as  species  by 
the  same  and  other  writers,  as  can  be  easily  seen  by 
reference  to  their  works. 

Thus,  species  are  either  "restricted"  or  "protean," 
the  latter  embracing  many,  the  former  few  variations ; 
and  the  varieties  included  by  the  protean  species  are 
often  as  different  from  each  other  in  their  typical  forms 
as  are  the  "  restricted "  species.  As  an  example,  the 
species  Homo  sapiens  (man)  will  suffice.  His  primary 
varieties  are  as  distinct  as  the  species  of  many  well 
known  genera,  but  cannot  be  defined,  owing  to  the  ex- 
istence of  innumerable  intermediate  forms  between 
them. 

As  to  the  common  origin  of  such  "varieties"  of  the 
protean  species,  naturalists  never  had  any  doubt,  yet 
when  it  comes  to  the  restricted  "  species,"  the  anti-de- 
velopmentalist  denies  it  in  1oto.  Thus  the  varieties  of 
most  of  the  domesticated  animals  are  some  of  them 
known — others  held  with  great  probability  to  have  had  a 
common  origin.  Varieties  of  plumage  in  fowls  and 
canaries  are  of  every-day  occurrence,  and  are  produced 
under  our  eyes.  The  cart-horse  and  racer,  the  Shet- 
land pony  and  the  Norman,  are  without  doubt  derived 
from  the  same  parentage.  The  varieties  of  pigeons  and 
ducks  are  of  the  same  kind,  but  not  every  one  is  aware 
of  the  extent  and  amount  of  such  variations.  The 


'(8) 

varieties  in  many  characters  seen  in  hogs  and  cattle, 
especially  when  examples  from  distant  countries  are 
compared,  are  very  striking,  and  are  confessedly  equal 
in  degree  to  those  found  to  define  species  in  a  state  of 
nature :  here,  however,  they  are  not  definitive. 

It  is  easy  to  see  that  all  that  is  necessary  to  produce 
in  the  mind  of  the  anti-developmentalist  the  illusion  of 
distinct  origin  by  creation  of  many  of  these  forms, 
would  be  to  destroy  a  number  of  the  intermediate  con- 
ditions of  specific  form  and  structure,  and  thus  to  leave 
remaining  definable  groups  of  individuals,  and  there- 
fore "species." 

That  such  destructions  and  extinctions  have  been 
going  on  ever  since  the  existence  of  life  on  the  globe  is 
well  known.  That  it  should  affect  intermediate  forms, 
such  as  bind  together  the  types  of  a  protean  species  as 
well  as  restricted  species,  is  equally  certain.  That  its 
result  has  been  to  produce  definable  species  cannot  be 
denied,  especially  in  consideration  of  the  following 
facts :  Protean  species  nearly  always  have  a  wide  geo- 
graphical distribution.  They  exist  under  more  varied 
circumstances  than  do  individuals  of  a  more  restricted 
species.  The  subordinate  variations  of  the  protean 
species  are  generally,  like  the  restricted  species,  con- 
fined to  distinct  subdivisions  of  the  geographical  area 
which  the  whole  occupies.  As  in  geological  time 
changes  of  level  have  separated  areas  once  continuous 
by  bodies  of  water  or  high  mountain  ranges,  so  have 
vast  numbers  of  individuals  occupying  such  areas  been 
destroyed.  Important  alterations  of  temperature,  or 
great  changes  in  abundance  or  character  of  vegetable 
life  over  given  areas,  would  produce  the  same  result. 

This  part  of  the  subject  might  be  prolonged,  were  it 


(  9  )  153 

necessary,  but  it  has  been  ably  discussed  by  Darwin. 
The  rationale  of  the  "  origin  of  species  "  as  stated  by 
him  may  be  examined  a  few  pages  farther  on. 

4 
ft.  Of  the  Characters  of  Higher  Groups. 

a.  Relations  of  Structures.  The  evidences  of  deriva- 
tive origin  of  the  structures  defining  the  groups  called 
genera,  and  all  those  of  higher  grade,  are  of  a  very  dif- 
ferent character  from  those  discussed  in  relation  to  spe- 
cific characters  ;  they  are  more  difficult  of  observation 
and  explanation. 

Firstly:  It  would  appear  to  be  supposed  by  many 
that  the  creation  of  organic  types  was  an  irregular  and 
capricious  process,  variously  pursued  by  its  Author  as 
regards  time  and  place,  and  without  definite  final  aim  ; 
and  this  notwithstanding  the  wonderful  evidences  we 
possess,  in  the  facts  of  astronomy,  chemistry,  sound, 
etc.,  of  His  adhesion  to  harmonious  and  symmetrical 
sequences  in  His  modes  and  plans. 

Such  regularity  of  plan  is  found  to  exist  in  the  rela- 
tions of  the  great  divisions  of  the  animal  and  vegetable 
kingdoms  as  at  present  existing  on  the  earth.  Thus, 
with  animals  we  have  a  great  class  of  species  which 
consists  of  nothing  more  than  masses  or  cells  of  proto- 
plasmic matter,  without  distinct  organs  ;  or  the  Pro- 
tozoa. We  have  then  the  Gcelenterata  (example,  corals,) 
where  the  organism  is  composed  of  many  cells  arranged 
in  distinct  parts,  but  where  a  single  very  simple  system 
of  organs,  forming  the  only  internal  cavity  of  the  body, 
does  the  work  of  the  many  systems  of  the  more  com- 
plex animals.  Next,  the  Echinodermata  (such  as  star- 
fish) present  us  with  a  body  containing  distinct  systems 
i* 


154  (  io  ) 

of  organs  enclosed  in  a  visceral  cavity,  including  a  ru- 
dimental  nervous  system  in  the  form  of  a  ring.  In  the 
Molluscs  to  this  condition  is  added  additional  complica- 
tion, including  extensions  of  the  nervous  system  from 
the  ring  as  a  starting-point,  and  a  special  organ  for  a 
heart.  In  the  Articulates  (crabs,  insects,)  we  have  like 
complications,  and  a  long  distinct  nervous  axis  on  the 
lower  surface  of  the  body.  The  last  branch  or  division 
of  animals  is  considered  to  be  higher,  because  all  the 
systems  of  life  organs  are  most  complex  or  specialized. 
The  nervous  ring  is  almost  obliterated  by  a  great  en- 
largement of  its  usual  ganglia,  thus  become  a  brain, 
which  is  succeeded  by  a  long  axis  on  the  upper  side 
of  the  body.  This  and  other  points  define  the  Ver- 
tebrata. 

Plans  of  structure,  independent  of  the  simplicity  or 
perfection  of  the  special  arrangement  or  structure  of 
organs,  also  define  these  great  groups.  Thus  the  Pro- 
tozoa present  a  spiral,  the  Ccelenterata  a  radiate,  the 
Echinodermata  a  bilateral  radiate  plan.  The  Articu- 
lates are  a  series  of  external  rings,  each  in  one  or  more 
respects  repeating  the  others.  The  Molluscs  are  a  sac, 
while  a  ring  above  a  ring,  joined  together  by  a  solid 
center-piece,  represents  the  plan  of  each  of  the  many 
segments  of  the  Vertebrates  which  give  the  members  of 
that  branch  their  form. 

These  bulwarks  of  distinction  of  animal  types  are 
entered  into  here  simply  because  they  are  the  most  in- 
violable and  radical  of  those  with  which  we  have  to 
deal,  and  to  give  the  anti-developmentalist  the  best  foot- 
hold for  his  position.  I  will  only  allude  to  the  relations 
of  their  points  of  approach,  as  these  are  affected  by 
considerations  afterward  introduced. 


The  Vertebrates  approach  the  Molluscs  at  the  low- 
est extreme  of  the  former  and  higher  of  the  latter. 
The  lamprey  eels  of  the  one  possess  several  characters 
in  common  with  the  cuttle-fish  or  squids  of  the  latter. 
The  amphioxus  is  called  the  lowest  Vertebrate,  and 
though  it  is  nothing  else,  the  definition  of  the  division 
must  be  altered  to  receive  it ;  it  has  no  brain  ! 

The  lowest  forms  of  the  Molluscs  and  Articulates  are 
scarcely  distinguishable  from  each  other,  so  far  as  adhe- 
sion to  the  "  plan  "  is  concerned,  and  some  of  the  lat- 
ter division  are  very  near  certain  Echinodermata.  As 
we  approach  the  boundary-lines  of  the  two  lowest  divis- 
ions, the  approaches  become  equally  close,  and  the  boun- 
daries very  obscure. 

More  instructive  is  the  evidence  of  the  relation  of 
"the  subordinate  classes  of  any  one  of  these  divisions. 
The  conditions  of  those  organs  or  parts  which  define 
classes  exhibit  a  regular  relation,  commencing  with 
simplicity  and  ending  with  complication;  first  asso- 
ciated with  weak  exhibitions  of  the  highest  functions  of 
the  nervous  system — at  the  last  displaying  the  most  ex- 
alted traits  found  in  the  series. 

For  example :  In  the  classes  of  Vertebrates  we  find 
the  lowest  nervous  system  presents  great  simplicity — 
the  brain  cannot  be  recognized  ;  next  (in  lampreys),  the 
end  of  the  nervous  axis  is  subdivided,  but  scarcely  ac- 
cording to  the  complex  type  that  follows.  In  fishes  the 
cerebellum  and  cerebral  hemispheres  are  minute,  and 
the  intermediate  or  optic  lobes  very  large  :  in  the  rep- 
tiles the  cerebral  hemispheres  exceed  the  optic  lobes, 
while  the  cerebellum  is  smaller.  In  birds  the  cerebel- 
lum becomes  complex  and  the  cerebrum  greatly  in- 
creases. In  mammals  the  cerebellum  increases  in  com- 
plexity or  number  of  parts,  the  optic  lobes  diminish, 


'5  12 

while  the  cerebral  hemispheres  become  wonderfully 
complex  and  enlarged,  bringing  us  to  the  highest  devel- 
opment, in  man. 

The  history  of  the  circulatory  system  in  the  Verte- 
brates is  the  same.*  First,  a  heart  with  one  chamber, 
then  one  with  two  divisions  :  three  divisions  belong  to 
a  large  series,  and  the  highest  possess  four.  The  origins 
of  the  great  artery  of  the  body,  the  aorta,  are  first  five 
on  each  side  :  they  lose  one  in  the  succeeding  class  in 
the  ascending  scale,  and  one  in  each  succeeding  class 
or  order,  till  the  Mammalia,  including  man,  present  us 
with  but  one  on  one  side. 

From  an  infinitude  of  such  considerations  as  the 
above,  we  derive  the  certainty  that,  the  general  arrange- 
ment of  the  various  groups  of  the  organic  world  is  in 
scales,  the  subordinate  within  the  more  comprehensive 
divisions.  The  identification  of  all  the  parts  in  such  a 
complexity  of  organism  as  the  highest  animals  present, 
is  a  matter  requiring  much  care  and  attention,  and  con- 
stitutes the  study  of  homologies.  Its  pursuit  has  re- 
sulted in  the  demonstration  that  every  individual  of 
every  species  of  a  given  branch  of  the  animal  kingdom 
is  composed  of  elements  .common  to  all,  and  that  the 
differences  which  are  so  radical  in  the  higher  groups 
are  but  the  modifications  of  the  same  elemental  parts, 
representing  completeness  or  incompleteness,  oblitera- 
tion or  subdivision.  Of  the  former  character  are  rudi- 
mental  organs,  of  which  almost  every  species  possesses 
an  example  in  some  part  of  its  structure. 

But  we  have  other  and  still  more  satisfactory  evidence 
of  the  meaning  of  these  relations.  By  the  study  of  em- 
bryology we  can  prove  most  indubitably  that  the  simple 
and  less  complex  are  inferior  to  the  more  complex. 

*  See  a  homological  system  of  the  circulatory  system  in  th«  author's  Origin 
of  Genera,  p.  32. 


(  13  )  157 

Selecting  the  Vertebrates  again  as  an  example,  the  high- 
est form  of  mammal — e.g.,  man — presents  in  his  earliest 
stages  of  embryonic  growth  a  skeleton  of  cartilage,  like 
that  of  the  lamprey :  he  also  possesses  five  origins  of 
the  aorta  and  five  slits  on  the  neck,  both  which  charac- 
ters belong  to  the  lamprey  and  the  shark.  If  the  whole 
number  of  these  parts  does  not  coexist  in  the  embry- 
onic man,  we  find  in  embryos  of  lower  forms  more 
nearly  related  to  the  lamprey  that  they  do.  Later  in 
the  life  of  the  mammal  but  four  aortic  origins  are  found, 
which  arrangement,  with  the  heart  now  divided  into  two 
chambers,  from  a  beginning  as  a  simple  tube,  is  charac- 
teristic of  the  class  of  Vertebrates  next  in  order — the 
bony  fishes.  The  optic  lobes  of  the  human  brain  have 
also  at  this  time  a  great  predominance  in  size — a  char- 
acter above  stated  to  be  that  of  the  same  class.  With 
advancing  development  the  infant  mammal  follows  the 
scale  already  pointed  out.  Three  chambers  of  the 
heart  and  three  aortic  origins  follow,  presenting  the 
condition  permanent  in  the  batrachia  ;  and  two  origins, 
with  enlarged  cerebral  hemispheres  of  the  brain,  resem- 
ble the  reptilian  condition.  Four  heart-chambers,  and 
one  aortic  root  on  each  side,  with  slight  development  of 
the  cerebellum,  follow  all  characters  defining  the  croco- 
diles, and  immediately  precede  the  special  conditions 
defining  the  mammals.  These  are,  the  single  aorta 
root  from  one  side,  and  the  full  development  of  the 
cerebellum :  later  comes  that  of  the  cerebrum  also  in 
its  higher  mammalian  and  human  traits. 

Thus  we  see  the  order  already  pointed  out  to  be  true, 
and  to  be  an  ascending  one.  This  is  the  more  evident 
as  each  type  or  class  passes  through  the  conditions  of 
those  below  it,  as  did  the  mammal ;  each  scale  being 


shorter  as  its  highest  terminus  is  lower.  Thus  the  croc- 
odile passes  through  the  stage  of  the  lamprey,  the  fish, 
the  batrachian  and  the  reptile  proper. 

b.  In  Time,  We  have  thus  a  scale  of  relations  of 
existing  forms  of  animals  and  plants  of  a  remarkable 
kind,  and  such  as  to  stimulate  greatly  our  inquiries  as 
to  its  significance.  When  we  turn  to  the  remains  of  the 
past  creation  preserved  to  us  in  the  deposits  continued 
throughout  geologic  time,  we  are  not  disappointed,  for 
great  light  is  at  once  thrown  upon  the  subject. 

We  find,  in  brief,  that  the  lowest  division  of  the  ani- 
mal kingdom  appeared  first,  and  long  before  any  type 
of  a  higher  character  was  created.  The  Protozoon, 
Eozoon,  is  the  earliest  of  animals  in  geologic  time,  and 
represents  the  lowest  type  of  animal  life  now  existing. 
We  learn  also  that  the  highest  branch  appeared  last. 
No  remains  of  Vertebrates  have  been  found  below  the 
lower  Devonian  period,  or  not  until  the  Echinoderms 
and  Molluscs  had  reached  a  great  preeminence.  It  is 
difficult  to  be  sure  whether  the  Protozoa  had  a  greater 
numerical  extent  in  the  earliest  periods  than  now,  but 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  Ccelenterata  (corals)  and 
Echinoderms  (crinoids)  greatly  exceeded  their  present 
bounds,  in  Paleozoic  time,  so  that  those  at  present  ex- 
isting are  but  a  feeble  remnant.  If  we  examine  the 
subdivisions  known  as  classes,  evidence  of  the  nature 
of  the  succession  of  creation  is  still  more  conclusive. 
The  most  polyp-like  of  the  Molluscs  (brachiopoda)  con- 
stituted the  great  mass  of  its  representatives  during 
Paleozic  time.  Among  Vertebrates  the  fishes  appear 
first,  and  had  their  greatest  development  in  size  and 
numbers  during  the  earliest  periods  of  the  existence  of 
the  division.  Batrachia  were  much  the  largest  and 


f  IS  ) 

most  important  of  land  animals  during  the  Carbonif- 
erous period,  while  the  higher  Vertebrates  were  un- 
known. The  later  Mesozoic  periods  saw  the  reign  of 
reptiles,  whose  position  in  structural  development  has 
been  already  stated.  Finally,  the  most  perfect,  the 
mammal,  came  upon  the  scene,  and  in  his  humblest 
representatives.  In  Tertiary  times  mammalia  sup- 
planted the  reptiles  entirely,  and  the  unspiritual  mam- 
mals now  yield  to  man,  the  only  one  of  his  class  in 
whom  the  Divine  image  appears. 

Thus  the  structural  relations,  the  embryonic  charac- 
ters, and  the  successive  appearance  in  time  of  animals 
coincide.  The  same  is  very  probably  true  of  plants. 

That  the  existing  state  of  the  geological  record  of 
organic  types  should  be  regarded  as  anything  but  a 
fragment  is,  from  our  stand-point,  quite  preposterous. 
And  more,  it  may  be  assumed  with  safety  that  when 
completed  it  will  furnish  us  with  a  series  of  regular  suc- 
cessions, with  but  slight  and  regular  interruptions,  if 
any,  from  the  species  which  represented  the  simplest 
beginnings  of  life  at  the  dawn  of  creation,  to  those 
which  have  displayed  complication  and  power  in  later 
or  in  the  present  period. 

For  the  labors  of  the  paleontologist  are  daily  bring- 
ing to  light  structures  intermediate  between  those  never 
before  so  connected,  and  thus  creating  lines  of  succes- 
sion where  before  were  only  interruptions.  Many  such 
instances  might  be  adduced :  two  may  be  selected  as 
examples  from  American  paleontology  ;*  /.  e.,  the  near 

*  Professor  Huxley,  in  the  last  anniversary  lecture  before  the 
Geological  Society  of  London,  recalls  his  opinion,  enunciated  in 
1862,  that  "the  positively-ascertained  truths  of  Paleontology" 
negative  "  the'doctrines  of  progressive  modification,  which  suppose 


i6o  (16) 

approach  to  birds  made  by  the  reptiles  Laelaps  and 
Megadactylus ;  and  the  combination  of  characters  of 
the  sub-orders  of  Cryptodire  and  Pleurodire  Tortoises 
in  the  Adocus  of  New  Jersey. 

that  modification  to  have  taken  place  by  a  necessary  progress  from 
more  to  less  embryonic  forms,  from  more  to  less  generalized  types, 
within  the  limits  of  the  period  represented  by  the  fossiliferous 
rocks  ;  that  it  shows  no  evidence  of  such  modification  ;  and  as  to 
the  nature  of  that  modification,  it  yields  no  evidence  whatsoever 
that  the  earlier  members  of  any  long-continued  group  were  more 
generalized  in  structure  than  the  later  ones." 

Respecting  this  position,  he  says  :  "  Thus  far  I  have  endeavored 
to  expand  and  enforce  by  fresh  arguments,  but  not  to  modify  in  any 
important  respect,  the  ideas  submitted  to  you  on  a  former  occasion. 
But  when  I  come  to  the  propositions  respecting  progressive  modi- 
fication, it  appears  to  me,  with  the  help  of  the  new  light  which  has 
broken  from  various  quarters,  that  there  is  much  ground  for  soften- 
ing the  somewhat  Brutus-like  severity  with  which  I  have  dealt  with 
a  doctrine  for  the  truth  of  which  I  should  have  been  glad  enough 
to  be  able  to  find  a  good  foundation  in  1862.  So  far  indeed  as  the 
Invei  tebrata  and  the  lower  Vertebrata  are  concerned,  the  facts,  and 
the  conclusions  which  are  to  be  drawn  from  them,  appear  to  me  to 
remain  what  they  were.  For  anything  that  as  yet  appears  to  the  con- 
trary, the  earliest  known  marsupials  may  have  been  as  highly  organ- 
ized as  their  living  congeners  ;  the  Permian  lizards  show  no  signs 
of  inferiority  to  those  of  the  present  day  ;  the  labyrinthodonts  can- 
not be  placed  below  the  living  salamander  and  triton ;  the  Devonian 
ganoids  are  closely  related  to  polypterus  and  lepidosiren." 

To  this  it  may  be  replied :  I.  The  scale  of  progression  of  the 
Vertebrata  is  measured  by  the  conditions  ef  the  circulatory  system, 
and  in  some  measure  by  the  nervous,  and  not  by  the  osseous  : 
tested  by  this  scale,  there  has  been  successional  complication  of 
structure  among  Vertebrata  in  time.  2.  The  question  with  the 
evolutionist  is,  not  what  types  have  persisted  to  the  present  day, 
but  the  order  in  which  types  appeared  in  time.  3.  The  Marsupials, 
Permian  saurians,  labyrinthodonts  and  Devonian  ganoids  are  re- 
markably generalized  groups,  and  predecessors  of  types  widely 
separated  in  the  present  period.  4.  Professor  Huxley  adduces 


We  had  no  more  reason  to  look  for  intermediate  or 
connecting  forms  between  such  types  as  these,  than  be- 
tween any  others  of  similar  degree  of  remove  from  each 
other  with  which  we  are  acquainted.  And  inasmuch  as 
almost  all  groups,  as  genera,  orders,  etc.,  which  are  held 
to  be  distinct/tut  adjacent,  present  certain  points  of 
approximation  to  each  other,  the  almost  daily  discovery 
of  intermediate  forms  gives'  us  confidence"  to  believe 
that  the  pointings  in  other  cases  will  also  be  realized. 

y.   Of  Transitions. 

The  preceding  statements  were  necessary  to  the  com- 
prehension of  the  supposed  mode  of  metamorphosis  or 
development  of  the  various  types  of  living  beings,  or, 
in  other  words,  of  the  single  structural  features  which 
define  them.  .  .  .  As  it  is  evident  that  the  more 
comprehensive  groups,  or  those  of  highest  rank,  have 

many  such  examples  among  the  mammalian  subdivisions  in  the 
remaining  portion  of  his  lecturt.  5.  Two  alternatives  are  yet  open 
in  the  explanation  of  the  process  of  evolution  :  since  generalized 
types,  which  combine  the  characters  of  higher  and  lower  groups  of 
later  periods,  must  thus  be  superior  to  the  lower,  the  lower  must 
(first)  be  descended  from  such  a  generalized  form  by  degradation  ;  or 
(second)  not  descended  from  it  at  all,  but  from  some  lower  contem- 
poraneous type  by  advance  ;  the  higher  only  of  the  two  being  de- 
rived from  the  first-mentioned.  The  last  I  suspect  to  be  a  true  ex- 
planation, as  it  is  in  accordance  with  the  homologous  groups.  This 
law  will  shorten  the  demands  of  paleontologists  for  time,  since, 
instead  of  deriving  all  reptilia,  batrachia,  etc.,  from  common  or- 
igins, it  points  to  the  derivation  of  higher  reptilia  of  a  higher  order 
from  higher  reptilia  of  a  lower  order,  lower  reptilia  of  the  first  from 
lower  reptilia  of  the  second  ;  finally,  the  several  groups  of  the  low- 
est or  most  generalized  order  of  reptilia  from  a  parallel  series  of 
the  class  below,  or  batrachia, 


16*  (  i8  ) 

had  their  origin  in  remote  ages,  cases  of  transition  from 
one  to  the  other  by  change  of  character  cannot  be  wit- 
nessed at  the  present  day.  We  therefore  look  to  the 
most  nearly  related  divisions,  or  those  of  the  lowest 
rank,  for  evidence  of  such  change. 

It  is  necessary  to  premise  that  embryology  teaches 
that  all  the  species  of  a  given  branch  of  the  animal  king- 
dom (e.  g.y  Vertebrate,  Mollusc,  etc.)  are  quite  identical 
in  structural  character  at  their  first  appearance  on  the 
germinal  layer  of  the  yolk  of  the  parent  egg.  It  shows 
that  the  character  of  the  respective  groups  of  high  rank 
appear  first,  then  those  of  less  grade,  and  last  of  all 
those  structures  which  distinguish  them  as  genera.  But 
among  the  earliest  characters  which  appear  are  those  of 
the  species,  and  some  of  those  of  the  individual. 

We  find  the  characters  of  different  genera  to  bear  the 
same  relation  to  each  other  that  we  have  already  seen 
in  the  case  of  those  definitive  of  orders,  etc.  In  a  natu- 
ral assemblage  of  related  genera  we  discover  that  some 
are  defined  by  characters  found  only  in  the  embryonic 
stages  of  others ;  while  a  second  will  present  a  perma- 
nent condition  of  its  definitive  part,  which  marks  a  more 
advanced  stage  of  that  highest.  In  this  manner  many 
stages  of  the  highest  genus  appear  to  be  represented  by 
permanent  genera  in  all  natural  groups.  Generally, 
however,  this  resemblance  does  not  involve,  an  entire 
identity,  there  being  some  other  immaturities  found  in 
the  highest  genus  at  the  time  it  presents  the  character 
preserved  in  permanency  by  the  lower,  which  the  lower 
loses.  Thus  (to  use  a  very  coarse  example)  a  frog  at 
one  stage  of  growth  has  four  legs  and  a  tail :  the  sala- 
mander always  preserves  four  legs  and  a  tail,  thus  re- 
sembling the  young  frog.  The  latter  is,  however,  not  a 


(  '9  )  '63 

salamander  at  that  time,  because,  among  other  things, 
the  skeleton  is  represented  by  cartilage  only,  and  the 
salamander's  is  ossified.  This  relation  is  therefore  an 
imitation  only,  and  is  called  inexact  parallelism. 

As  we  compare  nearer  and  nearer  relations — /.  <?.,  the 
genera  which  present  fewest  points  of  difference — we 
find  the  differences  between  undeveloped  stages  of  the 
higher  and  permanent  conditions  of  the  lower  to  grow 
fewer  and  fewer,  until  we  find  numerous  instances  where 
the  lower  genus  is  exactly  the  same  as  the  undeveloped 
stage  of  the  higher.  This  relation  is  called  that  of 
exact  parallelism. 

It  must  now  be  remembered  that  the  permanence  of 
a  character  is  what  ,gives  it  its  value  in  defining  genus, 
order,  etc.,  in  the  eyes  of  the  systematist.  So  long  as 
the  condition  is  permanent  no  transition  can  be  seen : 
there  is  therefore  no  development.  If  the  condition  is 
transitional,  it  defines  nothing,  and  nothing  is  devel- 
oped ;  at  least,  so  says  the  anti-developmentalist.  It  is 
the  old  story  of  the  settler  and  the  Indian :  "  Will  you 
take  owl  and  I  take  turkey,  or  I  take  turkey  and  you 
owl  r 

If  we  find  a  relation  of  exact  parallelism  to  exist  be- 
tween two  sets  of  species  in  the  condition  of  a  certain 
organ,  and  the  difference  so  expressed  the  only  one 
which  distinguishes  them  as  sets  from  each  other — if 
that  condition  is  always  the  same  in  each  set — we  call 
them  two  genera :  if  in  any  species  the  condition  is  va- 
riable at  maturity,  or  sometimes  the  undeveloped  con- 
dition of  the  part  is  persistent  and  sometimes  transitory, 
the  sets  characterized  by  this  difference  must  be  united 
by  the  systematist,  and  the  whole  is  called  a  single 
genus. 


164  (  *o  ) 

We  know  numerous  cases  where  different  individuals 
of  the  same  species  present  this  relation  of  exact  paral- 
lelism to  each  other ;  and  as  we  ascribe  common  origin 
to  the  individuals  of  a  species,  we  are  assured  that  the 
condition  of  the  inferior  individual  is,  in  this  case, 
simply  one  of  repressed  growth,  or  a  failure  to  fulfill 
the  course  accomplished  by  the  highest.  Thus,  certain 
species  of  the  salamandrine  genus  amblystoma  undergo 
a  metamorphosis  involving  several  parts  of  the  osseous 
and  circulatory  systems,  etc.,  while  half  grown ;  others 
delay  it  till  fully  grown ;  one  or  two  species  remain  in- 
differently unchanged  or  changed,  and  breed  in  either 
condition,  while  another  species  breeds  unchanged,  and 
has  never  been  known  to  complete  a  metamorphosis. 

The  nature  of  the  relation  of  exact  parallelism  is  thus 
explained  to  be  that  of  checked  or  advanced  growth  of 
individuals  having  a  common  origin.  The  relation  of 
inexact  parallelism  is  readily  explained  as  follows  :  With 
a  case  of  exact  parallelism  in  the  mind,  let  the  repres- 
sion producing  the  character  of  the  lower,  parallelize 
the  latter  with  a  stage  of  the  former  in  which  a  second 
part  is  not  quite  mature :  we  will  have  a  slight  want  of 
correspondence  between  the  two.  The  lower  will  be 
immature  in  but  one  point,  the  incompleteness  of  the 
higher  being  seen  in  two  points.  If  we  suppose  the  im- 
maturity to  consist  in  a  repression  at  a  still  earlier  point 
in  the  history  of  the  higher,  the  latter  will  be  undevel- 
oped in  other  points  also :  thus,  the  spike-horned  deer 
of  South  America  have  the  horn  of  the  second  year  of 
the  North  American  genus.  They  would  be  generically 
identical  with  that  stage  of  the  latter,  were  it  not  that 
these  still  possess  their  milk  dentition  at  two  years  of  age. 
In  the  same  way  the  nature  of  the  parallelisms  seen 


in  higher  groups,  as  orders,  etc.,  may  be  accounted  for. 

The  theory  of  homologous  groups  furnishes  impor- 
tant evidence  in  favor  of  derivation.  Many  orders  of 
animals  (probably  all,  when  we  come  to  know  them)  are 
divisible  into  two  or  more  sections,  which  I  have  called 
homologous.  These  are  series  of  genera  or  families, 
which  differ  from  each  other  by  some  marked  character, 
but  whose  contained  genera  or  families  differ  from  each 
other  in  the  same  points  of  detail,  and  in  fact  corres- 
pond exactly.  So  striking  is  this  correspondence  that 
were  it  not  for  the"  general  and  common  character  sepa- 
rating the  homologous  series,  they  would  be  regarded  as 
the  same,  each  to  each.  Now  it  is  remarkable  that 
where  studied  the  difference  common  to  all  the  terms  of 
two  homologous  groups  is  found  to  be  one  of  inexact 
parallelism,  which  has  been  shown  above  to  be  evidence 
of  descent.  Homologous  groups  always  occupy  differ- 
ent geographical  areas  on  the  earth's  surface,  and  their 
relation  is  precisely  that  which  holds  between  succes- 
sive groups  of  life  in  the  periods  of  geologic  time. 

In  a  word,  we  learn  from  this  source  that  distinct  ge- 
ologic epochs  coexist  at  the  same  time  on  the  earth.  I 
have  been  forced  to  this  conclusion*  by  a  study  of  the 
structure  of  terrestrial  life,  and  it  has  been  remarkably 
confirmed  by  the  results  of  recent  deep-sea  dredgings 
made  by  the  United ;  States  Coast  Survey  in  the  Gulf 
Stream,  and  by  the  British  naturalists  in  the  North  At- 
lantic. These  have  brought  to  light  types  of  Tertiary 
life,  and  of  even  the  still  m6re  ancient  Cretaceous  pe- 
riods, living  at  the  present  day.  That  this  discovery 
invalidates  in  any  wise  the  conclusions  of  geology  re- 

*  Origin  of  Genera,  pages  70,  77,  79. 


166  (  ts  ) 

specting  lapse  of  time  is  an  unwarranted  assumption 
that  some  are  forward  to  make.  If  it  changes  the  views 
of  some  respecting  the  parallelism  or  coexistence  of 
faunae  in  different  regions  of  the  earth,  it  is  only  the 
nnti-developmentalists  whose  position  must  be  changed. 
For,  if  We  find  distinct  geologic  faunae,  or  epochs  de- 
fined by  faunae,  coexisting  during  the  present  period,  and 
fading  or  emerging  into  one  another  as  they  do  at  their 
geographical  boundaries,  it  is  proof  positive  that  the 
geologic  epochs  and  periods  of  past  ages  had  in  like 
manner  no  trenchant  boundaries,  but  also  passed  the 
one  into  the  other.  The  assumption  that  the  apparent 
interruptions  are  the  result  of  transfer  of  life  rather  than 
destruction,  or  of  want  of  opportunities  of  preservation, 
is  no  doubt  the  true  one. 

&  Rationale  of  Development. 

a.  In  Characters  of  Higher  Groups.  It  is  evident  in 
the  case  of  the  species  in  which  there  is  an  irregularity 
in  the  time  of  completion  of  metamorphosis  that  some 
individuals  traverse  a  longer  developmental  line  than 
those  who  remain  more  or  less  incomplete.  As  both 
accomplish  growth  in  the  same  length  of  time,  it  is  ob- 
vious that  it  proceeds  with  greater  rapidity  in  one  sense 
in  that  which  accomplishes  most :  its  growth  is  said  to 
be  accelerated.  This  phenomenon  is  especially  com- 
mon among  insects,  where  the  females  of  perfect  males 
are  sometimes  larvae  or  nearly  so,  or  pupae,  or  lack 
wings  or  some  character  of  final  development.  Quite 
as  frequently,  some  males  assume  characters  in  advance 
of  others,  sometimes  in  connection  with  a  peculiar  geo- 
graphical range. 


*3  167 

In  cases  of  exact  parallelism  we  reasonably  suppose 
the  cause  to  be  the  same,  since  the  conditions  are  iden- 
tical, as  has  been  shown  ;  that  is,  the  higher  conditions 
have  been  produced  by  a  crowding  back  of  the  earlier 
characters  and  an  acceleration  of  growth,  so  that  a  given 
succession  in  order  of  advance  has  extended  over  a 
longer  range  of  growth  than  its  predecessor  in  the  same 
allotted  time.  That  allotted  time  is  the  period  before 
maturity  and  reproduction,  and  it  is  evident  that  as  fast 
as  modifications  or  characters  should  be  assumed  suffi- 
ciently in  advance  of  that  period,  so  certainly  would 
they  be  conferred  upon  the  offspring  by  reproduction. 
The  acceleration  in  the  assumption  of  a  character,  pro- 
gressing more  rapidly  than  the  same  in  another  charac- 
ter, must  soon  produce,  in  a  type  whose  stages  were 
once  the  exact  parallel  of  a  permanent  lower  form,  the 
condition  of  inexact  parallelism.  As  all  the  more  com- 
prehensive groups  present  this  relation  to  each  other, 
we  are  compelled  to  believe  that  acceleration  has  been 
the  principle  of  their  successive  evolution  during  the 
long  ages  of  geologic  time. 

Each  type  has,  however,  its  day  of  supremacy  and 
perfection  of  organism,  and  a  retrogression  in  these  re- 
spects has  succeeded.  This  has  no  doubt  followed  a  law 
the  reverse  of  acceleration,  which  has  been  called  re* 
tardation.  By  the  increasing  slowness  of  the  growth  of 
the  individuals  of  a  genus,  and  later  and  later  assump- 
tion of  the  characters  of  the  latter,  they  would  be  suc- 
cessively lost. 

To  what  power  shall  we  ascribe  this  acceleration,  by 
which  the  first  beginnings  of  structure  have  accumu- 
lated to  themselves  through  the  long  geologic  ages 
complication  and  power,  till  from  the  germ  that  was 


168  (  ,4  ) 

scarcely  born  into  a  sand-lance,  a  human  being  climbed 
the  complete  scale,  and  stood  easily  the  chief  of  the 
whole  ? 

In  the  cases  of  species,  where  some  individuals  de- 
velop farther  than  others,  we  say  the  former  possess 
more  growth-force,  or  "vigor,"  than  the  latter.  We 
may  therefore  say  that  higher  types  of  structure  possess 
more  "vigor"  than  the  lower.  This, -however,  we  do 
not  know  to  be  true,  nor  can  we  readily  find  means  to 
demonstrate  it. 

The  food  which  is  taken  by  an  adult  animal  is  either 
assimilated,  to  be  consumed  .in  immediate  activity  of 
some  kind,  or  stored  for  future  use,  and  the  excess  is 
rejected  from  the  body.;.'  We  have  no  reason  to  suppose 
that  the  same  kind  .of  material  could  be  made  to  sub- 
serve the  production  of  life-force  by  any  other  jneans  than 
that  furnished  by  a  Hying  animal  organism.  •>  -/The  mate- 
rial from  which  this  organism  is  constructed  is  derived 
first  from  the  parent,  and  afterward  from  the  food,  etc., 
assimilated  by  the  individual  itself  so  long  as  growth 
continues.  As  it  is  the  activity  of  assimilation  directed 
to  a  special  end  during  this  latter  period  which  we  sup- 
pose to  be  increased  in  accelerated  development,  the 
acceleration  is  evidently  not  brought  about  by  increased 
facilities  for  obtaining  the  means  of  life  which  the  same 
individual  possesses  as  an  adult.  That  it  is  not  in  con- 
sequence of  such  increased  facilities  possessed  by  its 
parents  over  those  of  the  type  preceding  it,  seems 
equally  improbable  when  we  consider  that  the  charac- 
ters in  which  the  parent's  advance  has  appeared  are 
rarely  of  a  nature  to  increase  those  facilities. 

The  nearest  approach  to  an  explanation  that  can  be 
offered  appears  to  be  somewhat  in  the  following  direction : 


(  2$  ) 

There  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  character  of 
the  atmosphere  has  gradually  changed  during  geologic 
time,  and  that  various  constituents  of  the  mixture  have 
been  successively  removed  from  it,  and  been  stored  in 
the  solid  material  of  the  earth's  crust  in  a  state  of  com- 
bination. Geological  chemistry  has  shown  that  the 
cooling  of  the  earth  has  been  accompanied  by  the  pre- 
cipitation of  many  substances  only  gaseous  at  high  tem- 
peratures. Hydrochloric  and  sulphuric  acids  have  been 
transferred  to  mineral  deposits  or  aqueous  solutions. 
The  removal  of  carbonic  acid  gas  and  the  vapor  of 
water  has  been  a  process  of  much  slower  progress,  and 
after  the  expiration  of  all  the  ages  a  proportion  of  both 
yet  remains.  Evidence  of  the  abundance  of  the  former 
in  the  earliest  periods  is  seen  in  the  vast  deposits  of 
limestone  rock  ;  later,  in  the  prodigious  quantities  of 
shells  which  have  been  elaborated  from  the  same  in  so- 
lution. Proof  of  its  abundance  in  the  atmosphere  in 
later  periods  is  seen  in  the  extensive  deposits  of  coal  of 
the  Carboniferous,  Triassic  and  Jurassic  periods.  If  the 
most  luxuriant  vegetation  of  the  present  day  takes  but 
fifty  tons  of  carbon  from  the  atmosphere  in  a  century, 
per  acre,  thus  producing  a  layer  over  that  extent  of  less 
than  a  third  of  an  inch  in  thickness,  what  amount  of 
carbon  must  be  abstracted  in  order  to  produce  strata  of 
thirty-five  feet  in  depth  ?  No  doubt  it  occupied  a  long 
period,  but  the  atmosphere,  thus  deprived  of  a  large 
proportion  of  carbonic  acid,  would  in  subsequent  periods 
undoubtedly  possess  an  improved  capacity  for  the  sup- 
port of  animal  life. 

The  successively  higher  degree  of  oxidization  of  the 
blood  in  the  organs  designed  for  that  function,  whether 
performing  it  in  water  or  air,  would  certainly  accelerate 


170  (  26  ) 

the  performances  of  all  the  vital  functions,  and  among 
others  that  of  growth.  Thus  it  may  be  that  acceleration 
can  be  accounted  for,  and  the  process  of  the  develop- 
ment of  the  orders  and  sundry  lesser  groups  of  the  Ver- 
tebrate kingdom  indicated  ;  for,  as  already  pointed  out, 
the  definitions  of  such  are  radically  placed  in  the  differ- 
ent structures  of  the  organs  which  aerate  the  blood  and 
distribute  it  to  its  various  destinations. 

But  the  great  question,  What  determined  the  direc- 
tion of  this  acceleration?  remains  unanswered.  One 
cannot  understand  why  more  highly-oxidized  blood 
should  hasten  the  growth  of  partition  of  the  ventricle 
of  the  heart  in  the  serpent,  the  more  perfectly  to  sepa- 
rate the  aerated  from  the  impure  fluid  ;  nor  can  we  see 
why  a  more  perfectly-constructed  circulatory  system, 
sending  purer  blood  to  the  brain,  should  direct  acceler- 
ated growth  to  the  cerebellum  or  cerebral  hemispheres 
in  the  crocodile. 

b.  In  Characters  of  the  Specific  Kind.  Some  of  the 
characters  usually  placed  in  the  specific  category  have 
been  shown  to  be  the  same  in  kind  as  those  of  higher 
categories.  The  majority  are,  however,  of  a  different 
kind,  and  have  been  discussed  several  pages  back. 

The  cause  of  the  origin  of  these  characters  is  shrouded 
in  as  much  mystery  as  that  of  those  which  have  occu- 
pied the  pages  immediately  preceding.  As  in  that  case, 
we  have  to  assume,  as  Darwin  has  done,  a  tendency  in 
Nature  to  their  production.  This  is  what  he  terms  "  the 
principle  of  variation/'  Against  an  unlimited  variation 
the  great  law  of  heredity  or  atavism  has  ever  been  op- 
posed, as  a  conservator  and  multiplier  of  type.  This 
principle  is  exemplified  in  the  fact  that  like  produces 
like — that  children  are  like  their  parents,  frequently  even 


I  >7 )  171 

in  minutiae.  It  may  be  compared  to  habit  in  metaphys- 
ical matters,  or  to  that  singular  love  of  time  or  rhythm 
seen  in  man  and  lower  animals,  in  both  of  which  the 
tendency  is  to  repeat  in  continual  cycles  a  motion  or 
state  of  the  mind  or  sense. 

Further,  but  a  proportion  of  the  lines  of  variation  is 
supposed  to  have  been  perpetuated,  and  the  extinction 
of  intermediate  forms,  as  already  stated,  has  left  isolated 
groups  or  species. 

The  effective  cause  of  these  extinctions  is  stated  by 
Darwin  to  have  been  a  "natural  selection"— a  proposi- 
tion which  distinguishes  his  theory  from  other  develop- 
ment hypotheses,  and  which  is  stated  in  brief  by  the 
expression,  "the  preservation  of  the  fittest."  Its  mean- 
ing is  this :  that  those  characters  appearing  as  results 
of  this  spontaneous  variation  which  are  little  adapted  to 
the  conflict  for  subsistence,  with  the  nature  of  the  sup- 
ply, or  with  rivals  in  its  pursuit,  dwindle  and  are  sooner 
or  later  extirpated ;  while  those  which  are  adapted  to 
their  surroundings,  and  favored  in  the  struggle  for  means 
of  life  and  increase,  predominate,  and  ultimately  be- 
come the  centers  of  new  variation.  "  I  am  convinced," 
says  Darwin,  "  that  natural  selection  has  been  the  main, 
but  not  exclusive,  means  of  modification." 

That  it  has  been  to  a  large  extent  the  means  of  pres- 
ervation of  those  structures  known  as  specific,  must,  I 
think,  be  admitted.  They  are  related  to  their  peculiar 
surroundings  very  closely,  and  are  therefore  more  likely 
to  exist  under  their  influence,  Thus,  if  a  given  genus 
extends  its  range  over  a  continent,  it  is  usually  found  to 
be  represented  by  peculiar  species — one  in  a  maritime 
division,  another  in  the  desert,  others  in  the  forest,  in 
the  swamp  or  the  elevated  areas  of  the  region.  The 


ifa  (28) 

wonderful  interdependence  shown  by  Darwin  to  exist 
between  insects  and  plants  in  the  fertilization  of  the  lat- 
ter, or  between  animals  and  their  food-plants,  would  al- 
most induce  one  to  believe  that  it  were  the  true  expres- 
sion of  the  whole  law  of  development. 

But  the  following  are  serious  objections  to  its  univer- 
sal application : 

First :  The  characters  of  the  higher  groups,  from  gen- 
era up,  are  rarely  of  a  character  to  fit  their  possessors 
especially  for  surrounding  circumstances ;  that  is,  the 
differences  which  separate  genus  from  genus,  order  from 
order,  etc.,  in  the  ascending  scale  of  each,  do  not  seem 
to  present  a  superior  adaptation  to  surrounding  circum- 
stances in  the  higher  genus  to  that  seen  in  the  lower 
genus,  etc.  Hence,  superior  adaptation  could  scarcely 
have  caused  their  selection  above  other  forms  not  exist- 
ing. Or,  in  other  words,  the  different  structures  which 
indicate  successional  relation,  or  which  measure  the 
steps  of  progress,  seem  to  be  equally  well  fitted  for  the 
same  surroundings. 

Second :  The  higher  groups,  as  orders,  classes,  etc., 
have  been  in  each  geologic  period  alike  distributed  over 
the  whole  earth,  under  all  the  varied  circumstances  of- 
fered by  climate  and  food.  Their  characters  do  not 
seem  to  have  been  modified  in  reference  to  these.  Spe- 
cies, and  often  genera,  are,  on  the  other  hand,  eminently 
restricted  according  to  climate,  and  consequently  vege- 
table and  animal  food. 

The  law  of  development  which  we  seek  is  indeed  not 
that  which  preserves  the  higher  forms  and  rejects  the 
lower  after  their  creation,  but  that  which  explains  why 
higher  forms  were  created  at  all.  Why  in  the  results 
of  a  creation  we  see  any  relation  of  higher  and  lower, 


(  29  )  173 

and  not  rather  a  world  of  distinct  types,  each  perfectly 
adapted  to  its  situation,  but  none  properly  higher  than 
another  in  an  ascending  scale,  is  the  primary  question. 
Given  the  principle  of  advance,  then  natural  selection 
has  no  doubt  modified  the  details ;  but  in  the  succes- 
sive advances  we  can  scarcely  believe  such  a  principle 
to  be  influential.  We  look  rather  upon  a  progress  as 
the  result  of  the  expenditure  of  some  force  fore-arranged 
for  that  end. 

It  may  become,  then,  a  question  whether  in  charac- 
ters of  high  grade  the  habit  or  use  is  not  rather  the  re- 
sult of  the  acquisition  of  the  structure  than  the  struc- 
ture the  result  of  the  encouragement  offered  to  its 
assumed  beginnings  by  use,  or  by  liberal  nutrition  de- 
rived from  the  increasingly  superior  advantages  it  offers. 

«.   The  Physical  Origin  of  Man. 

If  the  hypothesis  here  maintained  be  true,  man  is  the. 
descendant  of  some  preexistent  generic  type,  the  which, 
if  it  were  now  living,  we  would  probably  call  an  ape. 

Man  and  the  chimpanzee  were  in  Linnaeus'  system 
only  two  species  of  the  same  genus,  but  a  truer  anatomy 
places  them  in  separate  genera  and  distinct  families. 
There  is  no  doubt,  however,  that  Cuvier  went  much  too 
far  when  he  proposed  to  consider  Homo  as  the  repre- 
sentative of  an  order  distinct  from  the  quadrumana,  un- 
der the  name  of  bimana.  The  structural  differences 
will  not  bear  any  such  interpretation,  and  have  not  the 
same  value  as  those  distinguishing  the  orders  of  mam- 
malia ;  as,  for  instance,  between  carnivora  and  bats,  or 
the  cloven-footed  animals  and  the  rodents,  or  rodents 
and  edentates,  The  differences  between  man  and  th§ 


chimpanzee  are,  as  Huxley  well  puts  it,  much  less  than 
those  between  the  chimpanzee  and  lower  quadrumana, 
as  lemurs,  etc.  In  fact,  man  is  the  type  of  a  family, 
Hominidae,  of  the  order  Quadrumana,  as  indicated  by 
the  characters  of  the  dentition,  extremities,  brain,  etc. 
The  reader  who  may  have  any  doubts  on  this  score  may 
read  the  dissections  of  Geoffrey  St.  Hilaire,  made  in 
1856,  before  the  issue  of  Darwin's  Origin  of  Species. 
He  informs  us  that  the  brain  of  man  is  nearer  in  struc- 
ture to  that  of  the  orang  than  the  orang's  is  to  that  of 
the  South  American  howler,  and  that  the  orang  and 
howler  are  more  nearly  related  in  this  regard  than  are 
the  howler  and  the  marmoset 

The  modifications  presented  by  man  have,  then,  re- 
sulted from  an  acceleration  in  development  in  some 
respects,  and  retardation  perhaps  in  others.  But  until 
the  combination  now  characteristic  of  the  genus  Homo 
was  attained  the  being  could  not  properly  be  called  man. 

And  here  it  must  be  observed  that  as  an  organic  type 
is  characterized  by  the  coexistence  of  a  number  of  pe- 
culiarities which  have  been  developed  independently  of 
e-ach  other,  its  distinctive  features  and  striking  functions 
are  not  exhibited  until  that  coexistence  is  attained  which 
is  necessary  for  these  ends. 

Hence,  the  characters  of  the  human  genus  were  prob- 
ably developed  successively ;  but  few  of  the  indications 
of  human  superiority  appeared  until  the  combination 
was  accomplished.  Let  the  opposable  thumb  be  first 
perfected,  but  of  what  use  would  it  be  in  human  affairs 
without  a  mind  to  direct  ?  And  of  what  use  a  mind 
without  speech  to  unlock  it  ?  And  speech  could  not  be 
possible  though  all  the  muscles  of  the  larynx  but  one 
were  developed,  or  but  a  slight  abnormal  convexity  in 
pne  pair  of  cartilages  remained, 


(3O  '75 

It  would  be  an  objection  of  little  weight  could  it  be 
truly  urged  that  there  have  as  yet  no  remains  of  ape- 
like men  been  discovered,  for  we  have  frequently  been 
called  upon  in  the  course  of  paleontological  discovery 
to  bridge  greater  gaps  than  this,  and  greater  remain, 
which  we  expect  to  fill.  But  we  have  apelike  charac- 
ters  exhibited  by  more  than  one  race  of  men  yet  existing. 

But  the  remains  of  that  being  which  is  supposed  to 
have  been  the  progenitor  of  man  may  have  been  dis- 
covered a  short  time  since  in  the  cave  of  Naulette,  Bel- 
gium, with  the  bones  of  the  extinct  rhinoceros  and 
elephant. 

We  all  admit  the  existence  of  higher  and  lower  races, 
the  latter  being  those  which  we  now  find  to  present 
greater  or  less  approximations  to  the  apes.  The  pecu- 
liar structural  characters  that  belong  to  the  negro  in  his 
most  typical  form  are  of  that  kind,  however  great  may 
be  the  distance  of  his  remove  therefrom.  The  flatten- 
ing of  the  nose  and  prolongation  of  the  jaws  constitute 
such  a  resemblance  ;  so  are  the  deficiency  of  the  calf  of 
the  leg,  and  the  obliquity  of  the  pelvis,  which  approaches 
more  the  horizontal  position  than  it  does  in  the  Cau- 
casian. The  investigations  made  at  Washington  during 
the  war  with  reference  to  the  physical  characteristics  of 
the  soldiers  show  that  the  arms  of  the  negro  are  from 
one  to  two  inches  longer  than  those  of  the  whites : 
another  approximation  to  the  ape.  In  fact,  this  race  is 
a  species  of  the  genus  Homo,  as  distinct  in  character 
from  the  Caucasian  as  those  we  are  accustomed  to  rec- 
ognize in  other  departments  of  the  animal  kingdom  ; 
but  he  is  not  distinct  by  isolation,  since  intermediate 
forms  between  him  and  the  other  species  can  be  abun- 
clantly  found, 


i7«  (3*) 

And  here  let  it  be  particularly  observed  that  two  of 
the  most  prominent  characters  of  the  negro  are  those  of 
immature  stages  of  the  Indo-European  race  in  its  char- 
acteristic types.  The  deficient  calf  is  the  character  of 
infants  at  a  very  early  stage  j  but,  what  is  more  impor- 
tant, the  flattened  bridge  of  the  nose  and  shortened  na- 
sal cartilages  are  universally  immature  conditions  of  the 
same  parts  in  the  Indo-European.  Any  one  may  con- 
vince himself  of  that  by  examining  the  physiognomies 
of  infants.  In  some  races-— e.  £•.,  the  Slavic — this  un- 
developed character  persists  later  than  in  some  others. 
The  Greek  nose,  with  its  elevated  bridge,  coincides  not 
only  with  aesthetic  beauty,  but  with  developmental  per- 
fection. 

This  is,  however,  only  "inexact  parallelism,"  as  the 
characters  of  the  hair,  etc.,  cannot  be  explained  on  this 
principle  among  existing  races.  The  embryonic  charac- 
ters mentioned  are  probably  a  remnant  of  those  charac- 
teristic of  the  primordial  race  or  species. 

But  the  man  of  Naulette,  if  he  be  not  a  monstrosity, 
in  a  still  more  distinct  and  apelike  species.  The  chin, 
that  marked  character  of  other  species  of  men,  is  totally 
wanting,  and  the  dentition  is  quite  approximate  to  the 
man-like  apes,  and  different  from  that  of  modern  men. 
The  form  is  very  massive,  as  in  apes.  That  he  was  not 
abnormal  is  rendered  probable  by  approximate  charac- 
ters seen  in  a  jaw  from  the  cave  of  Puy-sur-Aube,  and 
less  marked  in  the  lowest  races  of  Australia  and  New 
Caledonia. 

As  to  the  single  or  multiple  origin  of  man,  science  as 
yet  furnishes  no  answer.  It  is  very  probable  that,  in 
many  cases,  the  species  of  one  genus  have  descended 
from  corresponding  species  of  another  by  change  of 


'33)  '77 

generic  characters  only.  It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  the 
orang  possesses  the  peculiarly  developed  malar  bones 
and  the  copper  color  characteristic  of  the  Mongolian  in- 
habitants of  the  regions  in  which  this  animal  is  found, 
while  the  gorilla  exhibits  the  prognathic  jaws  and  black 
hue  of  the  African  races  near  whom  he  dwells.  This 
kind  of  geographical  imitation  is  very  common  in  the 
animal  kingdom. 

f.   The  Mosaic  Account, 

As  some  persons  imagine  that  this  hypothesis  con- 
flicts with  the  account  of  the  creation  of  man  given  in 
Genesis,  a  comparison  of  some  of  the  points  involved 
is  made  below. 

First :  In  Genesis  i.  26,  27,  we  read,  "  And  God  said, 
Let  us  make  man  in  our  image,  after  our  likeness,"  etc. 
"  So  God  created  man  in  his  own  image,  in  the  image 
of  God  created  he  him ;  male  and  female  created  he 
them."  Those  who  believe  that  this  "  image "  is  a 
physical,  material  form,  are  not  disposed  to  admit  the 
entrance  of  anything  ape-like  into  its  constitution,  for  the 
ascription  of  any  such  appearance  to  the  Creator  would 
be  impious  and  revolting.  But  we  are  told  that  "  God 
is  a  Spirit,"  and  Christ  said  to  his  disciples  after  his 
resurrection,  "  A  spirit  hath  not  flesh  and  bones,  a£  yc 
see  me  have."  Luke  xxiv.  39.  It  will  require  little 
further  argument  to  show  that  a  mental  and  spiritual 
image  is  what  is  meant,  as  it  is  what  truly  exists.  Man's 
conscience,  intelligence  and  creative  ingenuity  show  that 
he  possesses  an  "  image  of  God  "  within  him,  the  posses- 
sion of  which  is  really  necessary  to  his  limited  compre- 
hension of  God  and  of  God's  ways  to  man. 

2* 


'78  (34) 

Second :  In  Genesis  ii.  7,  the  text  reads,  "  And  the 
Lord  God  formed  man  of  the  dust  of  the  ground,  and 
breathed  into  his  nostrils  the  breath  of  life ;  and  man 
became  a  living  soul."  The  fact  that  man  js  the  result 
of  the  modification  of  an  ape-like  predecessor  nowise 
conflicts  with  the  above  statement  as  to  the  materials  of 
which  his  body  is  composed.  Independently  of  origin, 
if  the  body  of  man  be  composed  of  dust,  so  must  that 
of  the  ape  be,  since  the  composition  of  the  two  is  iden- 
tical. But  the  statement  simply  asserts  that  man  was 
created  of  the  same  materials  which  compose  the  earth : 
their  condition  as  "dust "  depending  merely  on  tempera- 
ture and  subdivision.  The  declaration,  "  Dust  thou  art, 
and  unto  dust  thou  shalt  return,"  must  be  taken  in  a 
similar  sense,  for  we  know  that  the  decaying  body  is  re- 
solved not  only  into  its  earthly  constituents,  but  also  into 
carbonic  acid  gas  and  water. 

When  God  breathed  into  man's  nostrils  the  breath  of 
life,  we  are  informed  that  he  became,  not  a  living  body, 
but  "a  living  soul."  His  descent  from  a  preexistent 
being  involved  the  possession  of  a  living  body  ;  but 
when  the  Creator  breathed  into  him  we  may  suppose 
for  the  present  that  He  infused  into  this  body  the  im- 
mortal part,  and  at  that  moment  man  became  a  consci- 
entious and  responsible  being. 

II.    METAPHYSICAL  EVOLUTION. 

It  is  infinitely  improbable  that  a  being  endowed  with 
such  capacities  for  gradual  progress  as  man  has  exhib- 
ited, should  have  been  full  fledged  in  accomplishments 
at  the  moment  when  he  could  first  claim  his  high  title, 
and  abandon  that  of  his  simious  ancestors.  We  are 


(  35  )  *79 

therefore  required  to  admit  the  growth  of  human  intelli- 
gence from  a  primitive  state  of  inactivity  and  absolute 
ignorance  ;  including  the  development  of  one  important 
mode  of  its  expression — speech ;  as  well  as  that  of  the 
moral  qualities,  and  of  man's  social  system — the  form  in 
which  his  ideas  of  morality  were  first  displayed. 

The  expression  "evolution  of  morality"  need  not 
offend,  for  the  question  in  regard  to  the  laws  of  this 
evolution  is  the  really  important  part  of  the  discussion, 
and  it  is  to  the  opposing  views  on  this  point  that  the 
most  serious  interest  attaches. 


The  two  views  of  evolution  already  treated  of,  held 
separately,  are  quite  opposed  to  each  other.  The  first 
(and  generally  received)  lays  stress  on  the  influence  of 
external  surroundings,  as  the  stimulus  to  and  guidance 
of  development :  it  is  the  counterpart  of  Darwin's  prin- 
ciple called  Natural  Selection  in  material  progress. 
This  might  be  called  the  Conflict  theory.  The  second 
view  recognizes  the  workings  of  a  force  whose  nature 
we  do  not  know,  whose  exhibitions  accord  perfectly  with 
their  external  surroundings  (or  other  exhibitions  of  it- 
self), without  being  under  their  influence  or  more  re- 
lated to  them,  as  effect  to  cause,  than  the  notes  of  the 
musical  octave  or  the  colors  of  the  spectrum  are  to  each 
other.  This  is  the  Harmonic  theory.  In  other  words, 
the  first  principle  deduces  perfection  from  struggle  and 
discord  ;  the  second,  from  the  coincident  progress  of 
many  parts,  forming  together  a  divine  harmony  com- 


i8o  (  36  ) 

parable  to  music.  That  these  principles  are  both  true 
is  rendered  extremely  probable  by  the  actual  phenomena 
of  development,  material  and  immaterial.  In  other 
words,  struggle  and  discord  ever  await  that  which  is 
not  in  the  advance,  and  which  fails  to  keep  pace  with 
the  harmonious  development  of  the  whole. 

AH  who  have  studied  the  phenomena  of  the  creation 
believe  that  there  exists  in  it  a  grand  and  noble  har- 
mony, such  as  was  described  to  Job  when  he  was  told 
that  "  the  morning  stars  sang  together,  and  all  the  sons 
of  God  shouted  for  joy." 

«.   Development  of  Intelligence. 

If  the  brain  is  the  organ  of  mind,  we  may  be  sur- 
prised to  find  that  the  brain  of  the  intelligent  man 
scarcely  differs  in  structure  from  that  of  the  ape. 
Whence,  then,  the  difference  of  power  ?  Though  no 
one  will  now  deny  that  many  of  the  Mammalia  are 
capable  of  reasoning  upon  observed  facts,  yet  how 
greatly  the  results  of  this  capacity  differ  in  number 
and  importance  from  those  achieved  by  human  intelli- 
gence !  Like  water  at  the  temperatures  of  50°  and  53°, 
where  we  perceive  no  difference  in  essential  character, 
so  between  the  brains  of  the  lower  and  higher  monkeys 
no  difference  of  function  or  of  intelligence  is  perceptible. 
But  what  a  difference  do  the  two  degrees  of  tempera- 
ture from  33°  to  31°  produce  in  water!  In  like  manner 
the  difference  between  the  brain  of  the  higher  ape  and 
that  of  man  is  accompanied  by  a  difference  in  function 
and  power,  on  which,  man's  earthly  destiny  depends. 
In  development,  as  with  the  water  so  with  the  higher 
ape :  some  Rubicon  has  been  crossed,  some  floodgate 


(37)  igi 

has  been  opened,  which  marks  one  of  Nature's  great 
transitions,  such  as  have  been  called  "  Expression 
points  "  of  progress. 

What  point  of  progress  in  such  a  history  would  ac- 
count for  this  accession  of  the  powers  of  the  human  in- 
telligence ?  It  has  been  answered,  with  considerable 
confidence,  The  power  of  speech.  Let  us  picture  man 
without  speech.  Each  generation  would  learn  nothing 
from  its  predecessors.  Whatever  originality  or  observa- 
tion might  yield  to  a  man  would  die  with  him.  Each  in- 
tellectual life  would  begin  where  every  other  life  began, 
and  would  end  at  a  point  only  differing  with  its  original 
capacity.  Concert  of  action,  by  which  man's  power 
over  the  material  world  is  maintained,  would  not  exceed, 
if  it  equaled,  that  which  is  seen  among  the  bees ;  and 
the  material  results  of  his  labors  would  not  extend  be- 
yond securing  the  means  of  life  and  the  employment  of 
the  simplest  modes  of  defence  and  attack. 

The  first  men,  therefore,  are  looked  upon  by  the  de- 
velopmentalists  as  extremely  embryonic  in  all  that  char- 
acterizes humanity,  and  they  appeal  to  the  facts  of  his- 
tory in  support  of  this  view.  If  they  do  not  derive 
much  assistance  from  written  history,  evidence  is  found 
in  the  more  enduring  relics  of  human  handiwork. 

The  opposing  view  is,  that  the  races  which  present 
or  have  presented  this  condition  of  inferiority  or  sav- 
agery have  reached  it  by  a  process  of  degradation  from 
a  higher  state — as  some  believe,  through  moral  delin- 
quency. This  position  may  be  true  in  certain  cases, 
which  represent  perhaps  a  condition  of  senility,  but  in 
general  we  believe  that  -  savagery  was  the  condition  of 
the  first  man,  which  has  in  some  races  continued  to  the 
present  day. 


i82  (  38  ) 

£>.  Evidence  from  Arch&ology, 

As  the  object  of  the  present  essay  is  not  to  examine 
fully  into  the  evidences  for  the  theories  of  evolution  here 
stated,  but  rather  to  give  a  sketch  of  such  theories  and 
their  connection,  a  few  facts  only  will  be  noticed. 

Improvement  in  the  use  of  Materials.  As  is  well 
known,  the  remains  of  human  handiwork  of  the  earliest 
periods  consist  of  nothing  but  rude  implements  of  stone 
and  bone,  useful  only  in  procuring  food  and  preparing 
it  for  use.  Even  when  enterprise  extended  beyond  the 
ordinary  routine,  it  was  restrained  by  the  want  of  proper 
instruments.  Knives  and  other  cutting  implements  of 
flint  still  attest  the  skill  of  the  early  races  of  men  from 
Java  to  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  from  Egypt  to  Ireland, 
and  through  North  and  South  America.  Hatchets, 
spear-heads  and  ornaments  of  serpentine,  granite,  silex, 
clay  slates,  and  all  other  suitable  rock  materials,  are 
found  to  have  been  used  by  the  first  men,  to  the  exclu- 
sion of  metals,  in  most  of  the  regions  of  the  earth. 

Later,  the  probably  accidental  discovery  of  the  superi- 
ority of  some  of  the  metals  resulted  in  the  substitution 
of  them  for  stone  as  a  material  for  cutting  implements. 
Copper — the  only  metal  which,  while  malleable,  is  hard 
enough  to  bear  an  imperfect  edge — was  used  by  succeed- 
ing races  in  the  Old  World  and  the  New.  Implements 
of  this  material  are  found  scattered  over  extensive 
regions.  So  desirable,  however,  did  the  hardening  of 
the  material  appear  for  the  improvement  of  the  cutting 
edge  that  combinations  with  other  metals  were  sought 
for  and  discovered.  The  alloy  with  tin,  forming  bronze 
and  brass,  was  discovered  and  used  in  Europe,  while 
that  with  silver  appears  to  have  been  most  readily  pro- 


39  I3 

duced  in  America,  and  was  consequently  used  by  the 
Peruvians  and  other  nations. 

The  discovery  of  the  modes  of  reducing  iron  ores 
placed  in  the  hands  of  man  the  best  material  for  bring- 
ing to  a  shape  convenient  for  his  needs  the  raw  ma- 
terial of  the  world.  All  improvements  in  this  direction 
made  since  that  time  have  been  in  the  quality  of  iron 
itself,  and  not  through  the  introduction  of  any  new 
metal. 

The  prevalent  phenomena  of  any  given  period  are 
those  which  give  it  its  character,  and  by  which  we  dis- 
tinguish it.  But  this  fact  does  not  exclude  the  coexist- 
ence of  other  phenomena  belonging  to  prior  or  subse- 
quent stages.  Thus,  during  the  many  stages  of  human 
progress  there  have  been  men  more  or  less  in  advance 
of  the  general  body,  and  their  characteristics  have  given 
a  peculiar  stamp  to  the  later  and  higher  condition  of  the 
whole.  It  furnishes  no  objection  to  this  view  that  we 
find,  as  might  have  been  anticipated,  the  stone,  bronze 
and  iron  periods  overlaping  one  another,  or  men  of  an 
inferior  culture  supplanting  in  some  cases  a  superior 
people.  A  case  of  this  kind  is  seen  in  North  America, 
where  the  existing  "  Indians,"  stone-men,  have  succeeded 
the  mound-builders,  copper-men.  The  successional  re- 
lation of  discoveries  is  all  that  it  is  necessary  to  prove, 
and  this  seems  to  be  established. 

The  period  at  which  the  use  of  metallic  implements 
was  introduced  is  unknown,  but  Whitney  says  that  the 
language  of  the  Aryans,  the  ancestors  of  all  the  modern 
Indo-Europeans,  indicates  an  acquaintance  with  such 
implements,  though  it  is  not  certain  whether  those  of 
iron  are  to  be  included.  The  dispersion  of  the  daughter 
races,  the  Hindoos,  the  Pelasgi,  Teutons,  Celts,  etc., 


184  (  40  ) 

could  not,  it  is  thought,  have  taken  place  later  than 
3000  B.  c. — a  date  seven  hundred  years  prior  to  that  as- 
signed by  the  old  chronology  to  the  Deluge.  Those 
races  coexisted  with  the  Egyptian  and  Chinese  nations, 
already  civilized,  and  as  distinct  from  each  other  in 
feature  as  they  are  now. 

Improvement  in  Architecture.  The  earliest  periods, 
then,  were  characterized  by  the  utmost  simplicity  of  in- 
vention and  construction.  Later,  the  efforts  for  defence 
from  enemies  and  for  architectural  display,  which  have 
always  employed  so  much  time  and  power,  began  to  be 
made.  The  megalithic  period  has  left  traces  over  much 
of  the  earth.  The  great  masses  of  stone  piled  on  each 
other  in  the  simplest  form  in  Southern  India,  and  the 
circles  of  stones  planted  on  end  in  England  at  Stone- 
henge  and  Abury,  and  in  Peru  at  Sillustani,  are  relics 
of  that  period.  More  complex  are  the  great  Himyaritic 
walls  of  Arabia,  the  works  of  the  ancestors  of  the 
Phoenicians  in  Asia  Minor,  and  the  titanic  workman- 
ship of  the  Pelasgi  in  Greece  and  Italy.  In  the  iron 
age  we  find  granitic  hills  shaped  or  excavated  into  tem- 
ples; as,  for  example,  everywhere  in  Southern  India. 
Near  Madura  the  circumference  of  an  acropolis-like  hill 
is  cut  into  a  series  of  statues  in  high  relief,  of  sixty  feet 
in  elevation.  Easter  Island,  composed  of  two  volcanic 
cones,  one  thousand  miles  from  the  west  coast  of  South 
America,  in  the  bosom  of  the  Pacific,  possesses  several 
colossi  cut  from  the  intrusive  basalt,  some  in  high  relief 
on  the  face  of  the  rock,  others  in  detached  blocks  re- 
moved by  human  art  from  their  original  positions  and 
brought  nearer  the  sea-shore. 

Finally,  at  a  more  advanced  stage,  the  more  ornate 
and  complex  structures  of  Central  America,  of  Cam- 


bodia,  Nineveh  and  Egypt,  represent  the  period  of 
greatest  display  of  architectural  expenditure.  The 
same  amount  of  human  force  has  perhaps  never  been 
expended  in  this  direction  since,  though  higher  concep- 
tions of  beauty  have  been  developed  in  architecture 
with  increasing  intellectuality. 

Man  has  passed  through  the  block-and-brick  building 
period  of  his  boyhood,  and  should  rise  to  higher  con- 
ceptions of  what  is  the  true  disposition  of  power  for 
"  him  who  builds  for  aye,"  and  learn  that  "  spectacle  " 
is  often  the  unwilling  friend  of  progress. 

No  traces  of  metallic  implements  have  ever  been 
found  in  the  salt-mines  of  Armenia,  the  turquoise-quar- 
ries in  Arabia,  the  cities  of  Central  America  or  the  ex- 
cavations for  mica  in  North  Carolina,  while  the  direct 
evidence  points  to  the  conclusion  that  in  those  places 
flint  was  exclusively  used. 

The  simplest  occupations,  as  requiring  the  least  exer- 
cise of  mind,  are  the  pursuit  of  the  chase  and  the  tend- 
ing of  flocks  and  herds.  Accordingly,  we  find  our  first 
parents  engaged  in  these  occupations.  Cain,  we  are 
told,  was,  in  addition,  a  tiller  of  the  ground.  Agricul- 
ture in  its  simplest  forms  requires  but  little  more  intelli- 
gence than  the  pursuits  just  mentioned,  though  no  em- 
ployment is  capable  of  higher  development.  If  we 
look  at  the  savage  nations  at  present  occupying  nearly 
half  the  land  surface  of  the  earth,  we  shall  find  many 
examples  of  the  former  industrial  condition  of  our  race 
preserved  to  the  present  day.  Many  of  them  had  no 
knowledge  of  the  use  of  metals  until  they  obtained  it 
from  civilized  men  who  visited  them,  while  their  pur- 
suits were  and  are  those  of  the  chase,  tending  domestic 
animals,  and  rudimental  agriculture., 


i86  (  42  ) 

y.  The  Development  of  Language, 

In  this  department  the  fact  of  development  from  the 
simple  to  the  complex  has  been  so  satisfactorily  demon- 
strated by  philologists  as  scarcely  to  require  notice  here. 
The  course  of  that  development  has  been  from  mono- 
syllabic to  polysyllabic  forms,  and  also  in  a  process  of 
differentiation,  as  derivative  races  were  broken  off  from 
the  original  stock  and  scattered  widely  apart.  The 
evidence  is  clear  that  simple  words  for  distinct  objects 
formed  the  bases  of  the  primal  languages,  just  as  the 
ground,  tree,  sun  and  moon  represent  the  character  of 
the  first  words  the  infant  lisps.  In  this  department  also 
the  facts  point  to  an  infancy  of  the  human  race. 

d.  Development  of  the  Fine  Arts. 

If  we  look  at  representation  by  drawing  or  sculpture, 
we  find  that  the  efforts  of  the  earliest  races  of  which  we 
have  any  knowledge  were  quite  similar  to  those  which 
the  untaught  hand  of  infancy  traces  on  its  slate  or  the 
savage  depicts  on  the  rocky  faces  of  hills.  The  circle 
or  triangle  for  the  head  and  body,  and  straight  lines  for 
the  limbs,  have  been  preserved  as  the  first  attempts  of 
the  men  of  the  stone  period,  as  they  are  to  this  day  the 
sole  representations  of  the  human  form  which  the  North 
American  Indian  places  on  his  buffalo  robe  or  mountain 
precipice.  The  stiff,  barely-outlined  form  of  the  deer, 
the  turtle,  etc.,  are  literally  those  of  the  infancy  of  civ- 
ilized man. 

The  first  attempts  at  sculpture  were  marred  by  the 
influence  of  modism.  Thus  the  idols  of  Coban  and 
Palenque,  with  human  faces  of  some  merit?  are  over- 


(  43  )  iS; 

loaded  with  absurd  ornament,  and  deformed  into  fright- 
ful asymmetry,  in  compliance  with  the  demand  of  some 
imperious  mode.  In  later  days  we  have  the  stiff,  con- 
ventionalized figures  of  the  palaces  of  Nineveh  and 
the  temples  of  Egypt,  where  the  representation  of  form 
has  somewhat  improved,  but  is  too  often  distorted  by 
false  fashion  or  imitation  of  some  unnatural  standard, 
real  or  artistic.  This  is  distinguished  as  the  day  of 
archaic  sculpture,  which  disappeared  with  the  Etruscan 
nation.  So  the  drawings  of  the  child,  when  he  aban- 
dons the  simple  lines,  are  stiff  and  awkward,  and  but  a 
stage  nearer  true  representation;  and  how  often  does 
he  repeat  some  peculiarity  or  absurdity  of  his  own !  So 
much  easier  is  it  to  copy  than  to  conceive. 

The  introduction  of  the  action  and  pose  of  life  into 
sculpture  was  not  known  before  the  early  days  of 
Greece,  and  it  was  there  that  the  art  was  brought  to 
perfection.  When  art  rose  from  its  mediaeval  slumber, 
much  the  same  succession  of  development  may  be  dis- 
covered. First,  the  stiff  figures,  with  straightened  limbs 
and  cylindric  drapery,  found  in  the  old  Northern 
churches — then  the  forms  of  life  that  now  adorn  the 
porticoes  and  palaces  of  the  cities  of  Germany. 

s.  Rationale  of  the  Development  of  Intelligence. 

The  history  of  material  development  shows  that  the 
transition  from  stage  to  stage  of  development,  experi- 
enced by  the  most  perfect  forms  of  animals  and  plants 
in  their  growth  from  the  primordial  cell,  is  similar  to  the 
succession  of  created  beings  which  the  geological 
epochs  produced.  It  also  shows  that  the  slow  assump- 
tion of  main  characters  in  the  line  of  succession  in 


i88  (  44  ) 

early  geological  periods  produced  the  condition  of  infe- 
riority, while  an  increased  rapidity  of  growth  in  later 
days  has  resulted  in  an  attainment  of  superiority.  It  is 
not  to  be  supposed  that  in  "  acceleration  "  the  period 
of  growth  is  shortened :  on  the  contrary,  it  continues 
the  same.  Of  two  beings  whose  characters  are  assumed 
at  the  same  rate  of  succession,  that  with  the  quickest  or 
shortest  growth  is  necessarily  inferior.  "  Acceleration  " 
means  a  gradual  increase  of  the  rate  of  assumption  of 
successive  characters  in  the  same  period  of  time.  A 
fixed  rate  of  assumption  of  characters,  with  gradual  in- 
crease in  the  length  of  the  period  of  growth,  would 
produce  the  same  result — viz.,  a  longer  developmental 
scale  and  the  attainment  of  an  advanced  position.  The 
first  is  in  part  the  relation  of  sexes  of  a  species ;  the 
last  of  genera,  and  of  other  types  of  creation.  If  from 
an  observed  relation  of  many  facts  we  derive  a  law,  we 
are  permitted,  when  we  see  in  another  class  of  facts 
similar  relations,  to  suspect  that  a  similar  law  has  ope- 
rated, differing  only  in  its  objects.  We  find  a  marked 
resemblance  between  the  facts  of  structural  progress 
in  matter  and  the  phenomena  of  intellectual  and  spir- 
itual progress. 

If  the  facts  entering  into  the  categories  enumerated 
in  the  preceding  section  bear  us  out,  we  conclude  that 
in  the  beginning  of  human  history  the  progress  of  the 
individual  man  was  very  slow,  and  that  but  little  was 
attained  to ;  that  through  the  profitable  direction  of  hu- 
man energy,  means  were  discovered  from  time  to  time 
by  which  the  process  of  individual  development  in  all 
metaphysical  qualities  has  been  accelerated ;  and  that 
up  to  the  present  time  the  consequent  advance  of  the 
whole  race  has  been  at  an  increasing  rate  of  progress, 


45  i89 

This  is  in  accordance  with  the  general  principle,  that 
high  development  in  intellectual  things  is  accomplished 
by  rapidity  in  traversing  the  preliminary  stages  of  infe- 
riority common  to  all,  while  low  development  signifies 
sluggishness  in  that  progress,  and  a  corresponding  re- 
tention of  inferiority. 

How  much  meaning  may  we  not  see,  from  this  stand- 
point, in  the  history  of  the  intelligence  of  our  little 
ones !  First  they  crawl,  they  walk  on  all  fours :  when 
they  first  assume  the  erect  position  they  are  generally 
speechless,  and  utter  only  inarticulate  sounds.  When 
they  run  about,  stones  and  dirt,  the  objects  that  first 
meet  the  eye,  are  the  delight  of  their  awakening  powers, 
but  these  are  all  cast  aside  when  the  boy  obtains  his 
first  jackknife.  Soon,  however,  reading  and  writing 
open  a  new  world  to  him ;  and  finally  as  a  mature  man 
he  seizes  the  forces  of  nature,  and  steam  and  electricity 
do  his  bidding  in  the  active  pursuit  of  power  for  still 
better  and  higher  ends. 

So  with  the  history  of  the  species :  first  the  quadru- 
mane — then  the  speaking  man,  whose  humble  industry 
was,  however,  confined  to  the  objects  that  came  first  to 
hand,  this  being  the  "  stone  age  "  of  pre-historic  time. 
When  the  use  of  metals  was  discovered,  the  range  of 
industries  expanded  wonderfully,  and  the  "  iron  age " 
saw  many  striking  efforts  of  human  power.  With  the 
introduction  of  letters  it  became  possible  to  record 
events  and  experiences,  and  the  spread  of  knowledge 
was  thereby  greatly  increased,  and  the  delays  and  mis- 
takes of  ignorance  correspondingly  diminished  in  the 
fields  of  the  world's  activity. 

From  the  first  we  see  in  history  a  slow  advance  as 
knowledge  gained  by  the  accumulation  of  tradition  and 


190  4 

by  improvements  in  habit  based  on  experience ;  but 
how  slow  was  this  advance  while  the  use  of  the  metals 

* 

was  still  unknown !  The  iron  age  brought  with  it  not 
only  new  conveniences,  but  increased  means  of  future 
progress ;  and  here  we  have  an  acceleration  in  the  rate 
of  advance.  With  the  introduction  of  letters  this  rate 
was  increased  many  fold,  and  in  the  application  of  steam 
we  have  a  change  equal  in  utility  to  any  that  has  pre- 
ceded it,  and  adding  more  than  any  to  the  possibilities 
of  future  advance  in  many  directions.  By  it  power, 
knowledge  and  means  of  happiness  were  to  be  dis- 
tributed among  the  many. 

The  uses  to  which  human  intelligence  has  successively 
applied  the  materials  furnished  by  nature  have  been — 
First,  subsistence  and  defence :  second,  the  accumula- 
tion of  power  in  the  shape  of  a  representative  of  that 
labor  which  the  use  of  matter  involves  ;  in  other  words, 
the  accumulation  of  wealth.  The  possession  of  this 
power  involves  new  possibilities,  for  opportunity  is 
offered  for  the  special  pursuits  of  knowledge  and  the 
assistance  of  the  weak  or  undeveloped  part  of  mankind 
in  its  struggles. 

Thus,  while  the  first  men  possessed  the  power  of 
speech,  and  could  advance  a  little  in  knowledge  through 
the  accumulation  of  the  experiences  of  their  predeces- 
sors, they  possessed  no  means  of  accumulating  the 
power  of  labor,  no  control  over  the  activity  of  number* 
—in  other  words,  no  wealth. 

But  the  accumulation  of  knowledge  finally  brought 
this  advance  about  The  extraction  and  utilization  of 
the  metals,  especially  iron,  formed  the  most  important 
step,  since  labor  was  thus  facilitated  and  its  productive- 
ness increased  in  an  incalculable  degree.  We  have 


(  47  )  *9* 

little  evidence  of  the  existence  of  a  medium  of  ex- 
change during  the  first  or  stone  period,  and  no  doubt 
barter  was  the  only  form  of  trade.  Before  the  use  of 
metals,  shells  and  other  objects  were  used :  remains  of 
money  of  baked  clay  have  been  found  in  Mexico.  Fi- 
nally, though  in  still  ancient  times,  the  possession  of 
wealth  in  money  gradually  became  possible  and  more 
common,  and  from  that  day  to  this  avenues  for  reaching 
this  stage  in  social  progress  has  ever  been  opening. 

But  wealth  merely  indicates  a  stage  of  progress,  since 
it  is  but  a  comparative  term.  All  men  could  not  become 
rich,  for  in  that  case  all  would  be  equally  poor.  But 
labor  has  a  still  higher  goal ;  for,  thirdly,  as  capital,  it 
constructs  and  employs  machinery,  which  does  the  work 
of  many  hands,  and  thus  cheapens  products,  which  is 
equivalent  in  effect  to  an  accumulation  of  wealth  to  the 
consumer.  And  this  increase  of  power  may  be  used 
for  the  intellectual  and  spiritual  advance  of  men,  or 
otherwise,  at  the  will  of  the  men  thus  favored.  Ma- 
chinery places  man  in  the  position  of  a  creator,  operat- 
ing on  Nature  through  an  increased  number  of  "  second- 
ary causes." 

Development  of  intelligence  is  seen,  then,  in  the 
following  directions :  First,  in  the  knowledge  of  facts, 
including  science;  second,  in  language;  third,  in  the 
apprehension  of*  beauty ;  and,  as  consequences  of  the 
first  of  these,  the  accumulation  of  power  by  develop- 
ment— First,  of  means  of  subsistence ;  and  second,  of 
mechanical  invention, 

Thus  we  have  two  terms  to  start  with  in  estimating 
the  beginning  of  human  development  in  knowledge  and 
power :  First,  the  primary  capacities  of  the  human  mind 
itself;  second,  a  material  world,  whose  infinitely  varied 


19*  (  4*  ) 

components  are  so  arranged  as  to  yield  results  to  the 
energies  of  that  mind.  For  example,  the  transition 
points  of  vaporization  and  liquefaction  are  so  placed  as 
to  be  within  the  reach  of  man's  agents ;  their  weights 
are  so  fixed  as  to  accord  with  the  muscular  or  other 
forces  which  he  is  able  to  exert;  and  other  living  or- 
ganizations are  subject  to  his  convenience  and  rule,  and 
not,  as  in  previous  geological  periods,  entirely  beyond 
his  control.  These  two  terms  being  given,  it  is  main- 
tained that  the  present  situation  of  the  most  civilized 
men  has  been  attained  through  the  operation  of  a  law 
of  mutual  action  and  reaction — a  law  whose  results, 
seen  at  the  present  time,  have  depended  on  the  accel- 
eration or  retardation  of  its  rate  of  action  ;  which  rate 
has  been  regulated,  according  to  the  degree  in  which  a 
third  great  term,  viz.,  the  law  of  moral  or  (what  is  the 
same  thing)  true  religious  development  has  been  com- 
bined in  the  plan.  What  it  is  necessary  to  establish  in 
order  to  prove  the  above  hypothesis  is  — 

I.  That  in  each  of  the  particulars  above  enumerated 
the  development  of  the  human  species  is  similar  to  that 
of  the  individual  from  infancy  to  maturity. 

II.  That  from  a  condition  of  subserviency  to  the  laws 
of  matter,  man's  intelligence  enables  him,  by  an  accu- 
mulation of  power,  to  become  in  a  sense  independent 
of  those  laws,  and  to  increase  greatly  the  rate  of  intel- 
lectual and  spiritual  progress. 

III.  That  failure  to  accomplish  a  moral  or  spiritual 
development  will  again  reduce  him  to  a  subserviency  to 
the  laws  of  matter* 

This  brings  us  to  the  subject  of  moral  development 
And  here  I  may  be  allowed  to  suggest  that  the  weight 
of  the  evidence  is  opposed  to  the  philosophy,  "  falsely 


(  49  )  *93 

so  called,"  of  necessitarianism,  which  asserts  that  the 
first  two  terms  alone  were  sufficient  to  work  out  man's 
salvation  in  this  world  and  the  next ;  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  to  that  anti-philosophy  which  asserts  that  all 
things  in  the  progress  of  the  human  race,  social  and 
civil,  are  regulated  by  immediate  Divine  interposition 
instead  of  through  instrumentalities.  Hence  the  sub- 
ject divides  itself  at  once  into  two  great  departments — 
viz.,  that  of  the  development  of  mind  or  intelligence, 
and  that  of  the  development  of  morality. 

That  these  laws  are  distinct  there  can  be  no  doubt, 
since  in  the  individual  man  one  of  them  may  produce 
results  without  the  aid  of  the  other.  Yet  it  can  be 
shown  that  each  is  the  most  invaluable  aid  and  stimu- 
lant to  the  other,  and  most  favorable  to  the  rapid 
advance  of  the  mind  in  either  direction. 

III.  SPIRITUAL  OR  MORAL  DEVELOPMENT. 

In  examining  this  subject,  we  first  inquire  (Sect,  a) 
whether  there  is  any  connection  between  physical  and 
moral  or  religious  development  j  then  (/3),  what  indica- 
tions of  moral  development  may  be  derived  from  history. 
Finally  (7),  a  correlation  of  the  results  of  these  inqui- 
ries, with  the  nature  of  the  religious  development  in  the 
individual,  is  attempted,  Of  course  in  so  stupendous 
an  inquiry  but  a  few  leading  points  can  be  presented 
here. 

If  it  be  true  that  the  period  of  human  existence  on 
the  earth  has  seen  a  gradually  increasing  predominance 
of  higher  motives  over  lower  ones  among  the  mass  of 
mankind,  and  if  any  parts  of  our  metaphysical  being 
have  been  derived  by  inheritance  from  preexistent 
3 


*94  (  5o  ) 

beings,  we  are  incited  to  the  inquiry  whether  any  of  the 
moral  qualities  are  included  among  the  latter ;  and 
whether  there  be  any  resemblance  between  moral  and 
intellectual  development. 

Thus,  if  there  have  been  a  physical  derivation  from  a 
preexistent  genus,  and  an  embryonic  condition  of  those 
physical  characters  which  distinguish  Homo — if  there 
has  been  also  an  embryonic  or  infantile  stage  in  intel- 
lectual qualities — we  are  led  to  inquire  whether  the 
development  of  the  individual  in  moral  nature  will  fur- 
nish us  with  a  standard  of  estimation  of  the  successive 
conditions  or  present  relations  of  the  human  species  in 
this  aspect  also. 

a.  Relations  of  Physical  and  Moral  Nature. 

Although  men  are  much  alike  in  the  deeper  qualities 
of  their  nature,  there  is  a  range  of  variation  which  is 
best  understood  by  a  consideration  of  the  extremes  of 
such  variation,  as  seen  in  men  of  different  latitudes,  and 
women  and  children. 

(a.)  In  Children.  Youth  is  distinguished  by  a  pecu- 
liarity, which  no  doubt  depends  upon  an  immature  con- 
dition of  the  nervous  center  concerned,  which  might  be 
called  nervous  impressibility.  It  is  exhibited  in  a  greater 
tendency  to  tearfulness,  in  timidity,  less  mental  endur- 
ance, a  greater  facility  in  acquiring  knowledge,  and  more 
ready  susceptibility  to  the  influence  of  sights,  sounds 
and  sensations.  In  both  sexes  the  emotional  nature 
predominates  over  the  intelligence  and  judgment.  In 
those  years  the  character  is  said  to  be  in  embryo,  and 
theologians  in  using  the  phrase,  "reaching  years  of 
religious  understanding,"  mean  that  in  early  years  the 


(SO  »9i 

religious  capacities  undergo  development  coincidentally 
with  those  of  the  body. 

(b.)  In  Women.  If  we  examine  the  metaphysical 
characteristics  of  women,  we  observe  two  classes  of 
traits — namely,  those  which  are  also  found  in  men,  and 
those  which  are  absent  or  but  weakly  developed  in  men. 
Those  of  the  first  class  are  very  similar  in  essential 
nature  to  those  which  men  exhibit  at  an  early  stage  of 
development.  This  may  be  in  some  way  related  to  the 
fact  that  physical  maturity  occurs  earlier  in  women. 

The  gentler  sex  is  characterized  by  a  greater  impres- 
sibility, often  seen  in  the  influence  exercised  by  a 
stronger  character,  as  well  as  by  music,  color  or  spec- 
tacle generally;  warmth  of  emotion,  submission  to  its 
influence  rather  than  that  of  logic ;  timidity  and  irregu- 
larity of  action  in  the  outer  world.  All  these  qualities 
belong  to  the  male  sex,  as  a  general  rule,  at  some  period 
of  life,  though  different  individuals  lose  them  at  very 
various  periods.  Ruggedness  and  sternness  may  rarely 
be  developed  in  infancy,  yet  at  some  still  prior  time 
they  certainly  do  not  exist  in  any. 

Probably  most  men  can  recollect  some  early  period  of 
their  lives  when  the  emotional  nature  predominated — a 
time  when  emotion  at  the  sight  of  suffering  was  more 
easily  stirred  than  in  maturer  years.  I  do  not  now 
allude  to  the  benevolence  inspired,  kept  alive  or  devel- 
oped by  the  influence  of  the  Christian  religion  on  the 
heart,  but  rather  to  that  which  belongs  to  the  natural 
man.  Perhaps  all  men  can  recall  a  period  of  youth 
when  they  were  hero-worshipers — when  they  felt  the 
need  of  a  stronger  arm,  and  loved  to  look  up  to  the 
powerful  friend  who  could  sympathize  with  and  aid  them. 
This  is  the  "  woman  stage "  of  character :  in  a  large 


196  (  52  ) 

number  of  cases  it  is  early  passed;  in  some  it  lasts 
longer ;  while  in  a  very  few  men  it  persists  through  life. 
Severe  discipline  and  labor  are  unfavorable  to  its  per- 
sistence. Luxury  preserves  its  bad  qualities  without  its 
good,  while  Christianity  preserves  its  good  elements 
without  its  bad. 

It  is  not  designed  to  say  that  woman  in  her  emotional 
nature  does  not  differ  from  the  undeveloped  man.  On 
the  contrary,  though  she  does  not  differ  in  kind,  she 
differs  greatly  in  degree,  for  her  qualities  grow  with  her 
growth,  and  exceed  in  power  many  fold  those  exhibited 
by  her  companion  at  the  original  point  of  departure. 
Hence,  since  it  might  be  said  that  man  is  the  undevel- 
oped woman,  a  word  of  explanation  will  be  useful. 
Embryonic  types  abound  in  the  fields  of  nature,  but 
they  are  not  therefore  immature  in  the  usual  sense. 
Maintaining  the  lower  essential  quality,  they  yet  exhibit 
the  usual  results  of  growth  in  individual  characters ; 
that  is,  increase  of  strength,  powers  of  support  and  pro- 
tection, size  and  beauty.  In  order  to  maintain  that  the 
masculine  character  coincides  with  that  of  the  undevel- 
oped woman,  it  would  be  necessary  to  show  that  the 
latter  during  her  infancy  possesses  the  male  characters 
predominating  —  that  is,  unimpressibility,  judgment, 
physical  courage,  and  the  like. 

If  we  look  at  the  second  class  of  female  characters 
—namely,  those  which  are  imperfectly  developed  or 
absent  in  men,  and  in  respect  to  which  man  may  be 
called  undeveloped  woman— we  note  three  prominent 
points  :  facility  in  language,  tact  or  finesse,  and  the  love 
of  children.  The  first  two  appear  to  me  to  be  alto- 
gether developed  results  of  "impressibility,"  already 
considered  as  an  indication  of  immaturity.  Imagina- 


(  53  )  197 

tion  is  also  a  quality  of  impressibility,  and,  associated 
with  finesse,  is  apt  to  degenerate  into  duplicity  and  un- 
truthfulness. 

The  third  quality  is  different.  It  generally  appears 
at  a  very  early  period  of  life.  Who  does  not  know  how 
soon  the  little  girl  selects  the  doll,  and  the  boy  the  toy- 
horse  or  machine  ?  Here  man  truly  never  gets  beyond 
undeveloped  woman.  Nevertheless,  "impressibility" 
seems  to  have*  a  great  deal  to  do  with  this  quality  also. 

Thus  the  metaphysical  relation  of  the  sexes  would 
appear  to  be  one  of  inexact  parallelism,  as  defined  in 
Sect.  I.  That  the  physical  relation  is  a  remote  one  of 
the  same  kind,  several  characters  seem  to  point  out. 
The  case  of  the  vocal  organs  will  suffice.  Their  struc- 
ture is  identical  in  both  sexes  in  early  youth,  and  both 
produce  nearly  similar  sounds.  They  remain  in  this 
condition  in  the  woman,  while  they  undergo  a  meta- 
morphosis and  change  both  in  structure  and  vocal 
power  in  the  man.  In  the  same  way,  in  many  of  the 
lower  creation,  the  females  possess  a  majority  of  embry- 
onic features,  though  not  invariably.  A  common 
example  is  to  be  found  in  the  plumage  of  birds,  where 
the  females  and  young  males  are  often  undistinguish- 
able.*  But  there  are  few  points  in  the  physical  struc- 
ture of  man  also  in  which  the  male  condition  is  the 

*  Meehan  states  that  the  upper  limbs  and  strong  laterals  in  coni- 
feraa  and  other  trees  produce  female  flowers  and  cones,  and  the 
lower  and  more  interior  branches  the  male  flowers.  What  he  points 
out  is  in  harmony  with  the  position  here  maintained  —  namely, 
that  the  female  characters  include  more  of  those  which  are  embry- 
onic in  the  males,  than  the  male  characters  include  of  those  which 
are  embryonic  in  the  female  :  the  female  flowers  are  the  product  of 
the  younger  and  more  growing  portions  of  the  tree — that  is,  those 
last  produced  (the  upper  limbs  and  new  branches) — while  the  male 


193  (  54  ) 

immature  one.  In  regard  to  structure,  the  point  at 
which  the  relation  between  the  sexes  is  that  of  exact 
parallelism,  or  where  the  mature  condition  of  the  one 
sex  accords  with  the  undeveloped  condition  of  the 
other,  is  when  reproduction  is  no  longer  accomplished 
by  budding  or  gemmation,  but  requires  distinct  organs. 
Metaphysically,  this  relation  is  to  be  found  where  dis- 
tinct individuality  of  the  sexes  first  appears ;  that  is, 
where  we  pass  from  the  hermaphrodite  to  the  bisexual 
condition. 

But  let  us  put  the  whole  interpretation  on  this  partial 
undevelopment  of  woman. 

The  types  or  conditions  of  organic  life  which  have 
been  the  most  prominent  in  the  world's  history — the 
Ganoids  of  the  first,  the  Dinosaurs  of  the  second,  and 
the  Mammoths  of  the  third  period — have  generally  died 
with  their  day.  The  line  of  succession  has  not  been 
from  them.  The  law  of  anatomy  and  paleontology  is, 
that  we  must  seek  the  point  of  departure  of  the  type 
which  is  to  predominate  in  the  future,  at  lower  stages  on 
the  line,  in  less  decided  forms,  or  in  what,  in  scientific 
parlance,  are  called  generalized  types.  In  the  same 
way,  though  the  adults  of  the  tailless  apes  are  in  a 
physical  sense  more  highly  developed  than  their  young, 
yet  the  latter  far  more  closely  resemble  the  human 
species  in  their  large  facial  angle  and  shortened  jaws. 

How  much  significance,  then,  is  added  to  the  law 
uttered  by  Christ ! — "  Except  ye  become  as  little  chil- 

flowers  are  produced  by  the  older  or  more  mature  portions — that 
is,  lower  limbs  or  more  axial  regions. 

Meehan's  observations  coincide  with  those  of  Thury  and  others 
on  the  origin  of  sexes  in  animals  and  plants,  which  it  appears  tq 
me  admit  of  a  similar  explanation, 


(  55  )  199 

dren,  ye  cannot  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  Sub- 
mission of  will,  loving  trust,  confiding  faith — these 
belong  to  the  child:  how  strange  they  appear  to  the 
executing,  commanding,  reasoning  man !  Are  they  so 
strange  to  the  woman?  We  all  know  the  answer. 
Woman  is  nearer  to  the  point  of  departure  of  that  de- 
velopment which  outlives  time  and  peoples  heaven  ;  and 
if  man  would  find  it,  he  must  retrace  his  steps,  regain 
something  he  lost  in  youth,  and  join  to  the  powers  and 
energies  of  his  character  the  submission,  love  and  faith 
which  the  new  birth  alone  can  give. 

Thus  the  summing  up  of  the  metaphysical  qualities  of 
woman  would  be  thus  expressed :  In  the  emotional 
world,  man's  superior ;  in  the  moral  world,  his  equal ; 
in  the  laboring  world,  his  inferior. 

There  are,  however,  vast  differences  in  women  in  re- 
spect to  the  number  of  masculine  traits  they  may  have 
assumed  before  being  determined  into  their  own  special 
development.  Woman  also,  under  the  influence  of  ne- 
cessity, in  later  years  of  life,  may  add  more  or  less  to 
those  qualities  in  her  which  are  fully  developed  in  the 
man. 

The  relation  of  these  facts  to  the  principles  stated  as 
the  two  opposing  laws  of  development  is,  it  appears  to 
me,  to  be  explained  thus :  First,  that  woman's  most  in- 
herent peculiarities  are  not  the  result  of  the  external 
circumstances  with  which  she  has  been  placed  in  con- 
tact, as  the  conflict  theory  would  indicate.  Such  circum- 
stances are  said  to  be  her  involuntary  subserviency  to 
the  physically  more  powerful  man,  and  the  effect  of  a 
compulsory  mode  of  life  in  preventing  her  from  attain- 
ing a  position  of  equality  in  the  activities  of  the  world. 
Second,  that  they  are  the  result  of  the  different  distri- 


200  (  56  ) 

butions  of  qualities  as  already  indicated  by  the  harmonic 
theory  of  development  j  that  is,  of  the  unequal  posses- 
sion of  features  which  belong  to  different  periods  in  the 
developmental  succession  of  the  highest.  And  here  it 
might  be  further  shown  that  this  relation  involves  no 
disadvantage  to  either  sex,  but  that  the  principle  of 
compensation  holds  in  moral  organization  and  in  social 
order,  as  elsewhere.  There  is  then  another  beautiful 
harmony  which  will  ever  remain,  let  the  development  of 
each  sex  be  extended  as  far  as  it  may. 

(c.)  In  Men.  If  we  look  at  the  male  sex,  we  shall 
find  various  exceptional  approximations  to  the  female  in 
mental  constitution.  Further,  there  can  be  little  doubt 
that  in  the  Indo-European  race  maturity  in  some  re- 
spects appears  earlier-  in  tropical  than  in  northern 
regions ;  and  though  subject  to  many  exceptions,  this  is 
sufficiently  general  to  be  looked  upon  as  a  rule.  Ac- 
cordingly, we  find  in  that  race — at  least  in  the  warmer 
regions  of  Europe  and  America — a  larger  proportion  of 
certain  qualities  which  are  more  universal  in  women ; 
as  greater  activity  of  the  emotional  nature  when  com- 
pared with  the  judgment ;  an  impressibility  of  the  ner- 
vous center,  which,  cczteris  paribus,  appreciates  quickly 
the  harmonies  of  sound,  form  and  color ;  answers  most 
quickly  to  the  friendly  greeting  or  the  hostile  menace  ; 
is  more  careless  of  consequences  in  the  material  expres- 
sion of  generosity  or  hatred,  and  more  indifferent  to 
truth  under  the  influence  of  personal  relations.  The 
movements  of  the  body  and  expressions  of  the  counte- 
nance answer  to  the  temperament.  More  of  grace  and 
elegance  in  the  bearing  mark  the  Greek,  the  Italian 
and  the  Creole,  than  the  German,  the  Englishman  or  the 
Green  Mountain  man.  More  of  vivacity  and  fire,  for 


(  57  )  aoi 

better  or  for  worse,  are  displayed  in  the  countenance. 

Perhaps  the  more  northern  type  left  all  that  behind 
in  its  youth.  The  rugged,  angular  character  which  ap- 
preciates force  better  than  harmony,  the  strong  intellect 
which  delights  in  forethought  and  calculation,  the  less 
impressibility,  reaching  stolidity  in  the  uneducated,  are 
its  well-known  traits.  If  in  such  a  character  generosity 
is  less  prompt,  and  there  is  but  little  chivalry,  there  is 
persistency  and  unwavering  fidelity,  not  readily  inter- 
rupted by  the  lightning  of  passion  or  the  dark  surmises 
of  an  active  imagination. 

All  these  peculiarities  appear  to  result,  first,  from 
different  degrees  of  quickness  and  depth  in  appreciating 
impressions  from  without ;  and,  second,  from  differing 
degrees  of  attention  to  the  intelligent  judgment  in  con- 
sequent action.  (I  leave  conscience  out,  as  not  belong- 
ing to  the  category  of  inherited  qualities.) 

The  first  is  the  basis  of  an  emotional  nature,  and  the 
predominance  of  the  second  is  the  usual  indication  of 
maturity.  That  the  first  is  largely  dependent  on  an 
impressible  condition  of  the  nervous  system  can  be  as- 
serted by  those  who  reduce  their  nervous  centers  to  a 
sensitive  condition  by  a  rapid  consumption  of  the  nu- 
tritive materials  necessary  to  the  production  of  thought- 
force,  and  perhaps  of  brain  tissue  itself,  induced  by  close 
and  prolonged  mental  labor.  The  condition  of  over- 
work, thpugh  but  an  imitation  of  immaturity,  without  its 
joy-giving  nutrition,  is  nevertheless  very  instructive. 
The  sensitiveness,  both  physically,  emotionally  and  mor- 
ally, is  often  remarkable,  and  a  weakening  of  the  un- 
derstanding is  often  coincident  with  it. 

It  is  necessary  here  to  introduce  a  caution,  that  the 
meaning  of  the  words  high  and  low  be  not  misunderstood. 


202  (  58  ) 

Great  impressibility  is  an  essential  constituent  of  many 
of  the  highest  forms  of  genius,  and  the  combination  of 
this  quality  with  strong  reflective  intelligence,  constitutes 
the  most  complete  and  efficient  type  of  mind — -there- 
fore the  highest  in  the  common  sense.  It  is  not,  how- 
ever, the  highest  —  or  extremest  —  in  an  evolutional 
sense,  it  is  not  masculine,  but  hermaphrodite ;  in  other 
words,  its  kinetic  force  exceeds  its  bathmic*  It  is  there- 
fore certain  that  a  partial  diminution  of  bathmic  vigor 
is  an  advantage  to  some  kinds  of  intellect. 

The  above  observations  have  been  confined  to  the 
Indo-European  race.  It  may  be  objected  to  the  theory 
that  savagery  means  immaturity  in  the  senses  above 
described,  as  dependent  largely  on  "impressibility," 
while  savages  in  general  display  the  least  "impressi- 
bility," as  that  word  is  generally  understood.  This 
cannot  be  asserted  of  the  Africans,  who,  so  far  as  we 
know  them,  possess  this  peculiarity  in  a  high  degree. 
Moreover,  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  state  of  in- 
difference which  precedes  that  of  impressibility  in  the 
individual  may  characterize  many  savages ;  while  their 
varied  peculiarities  may  be  largely  accounted  for  by 
recollecting  that  many  combinations  of  different  species 
of  emotions  and  kinds  of  intelligence  go  to  make  up 
the  complete  result  in  each  case. 

(it.)  Conclusions.  Three  types  of  religion  may  be 
selected  from  the  developmental  conditions  of  man : 
first,  an  absence  of  sensibility  (early  infancy) ;  second, 
an  emotional  stage  more  productive  of  faith  than  of 

*  Bathmic  force  is  analogous  to  the  potential  force  of  chemists, 
but  is  no  doubt  entirely  different  in  its  nature.  It  is  converted 
into  active  energy  or  kinetic  force  only  during  the  years  of  growth : 
it  is  in  large  amount  in  acceleration,  in  small  amount  in  retardation. 


(  59  )  203 

works ;  thirdly,  an  intellectual  type,  more  favorable  to 
works  than  to  faith.  Though  in  regard  to  responsibility 
these  states  may  be  equal,  there  is  absolutely  no  gain  to 
laboring  humanity  from  the  first  type,  and  a  serious  loss 
in  actual  results  from  the  second,  taken  alone,  as  com- 
pared with  the  third. 

These,  then,  are  the  physical  vehicles  of  religion — the 
"  earthen  vessels  "  of  Paul  —  which  give  character  and 
tone  to  the  deeper  spiritual  life,  as  the  color  of  the 
transparent  vessel  is  communicated  to  the  light  which 
radiates  from  within. 

But  if  evolution  has  taken  place,  there  is  evidently  a 
provision  for  the  progress  from  the  lower  to  the  higher 
states,  either  in  the  education  of  circumstances  ("  con- 
flict,") or  in  the  power  of  an  interior  spiritual  influence 
("harmony,")  or  both. 

/3.  Evidence  Derived  from  History, 

We  trace  the  development  of  Morality  in — First,  the 
family  or  social  order;  second,  the  civil  order,  or  gov- 
ernment. 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  extent  of  moral  igno- 
rance before  the  Deluge,  it  does  not  appear  that  the 
earth  was  yet  prepared  for  the  permanent  habitation  of 
the  human  race.  All  nations  preserve  traditions  of  the 
drowning  of  the  early  peoples  by  floods,  such  as  have 
occurred  frequently  during  geologic  time.  At  the  close 
of  each  period  of  dry  land,  a  period  of  submergence 
has  set  in,  and  the  depression  of  the  level  of  the  earth, 
and  consequent  overflow  by  the  sea,  has  caused  the 
death  and  subsequent  preservation  of  the  remains  of 
the  fauna  and  flora  living  upon  it,  while  the  elevation  of 


*°4  (  60  ) 

the  same  has  produced  that  interruption  in  the  process 
of  deposit  in  the  same  region  which  marks  the  intervals 
between  geologic  periods.  Change  in  these  respects  do 
not  occur  to  any  very  material  extent  at  the  present 
time  in  the  regions  inhabited  by  the  most  highly  devel- 
oped portions  of  the  human  race  ;  and  as  the  last  which 
occurred  seems  to  have  been  expressly  designed  for  the 
preparation  of  the  earth's  surface  for  the  occupation  of 
organized  human  society,  it  may  be  doubted  whether 
many  such  changes  are  to  be  looked  for  in  the  future. 
The  last  great  flooding  was  that  which  stratified  the 
drift  materials  of  the  north,  and  carried  the  finer  por- 
tions far  over  the  south,  determining  the  minor  topogra- 
phy of  the  surface  and  supplying  it  with  soils. 

The  existence  of  floods  which  drowned  many  races 
of  men  may  be  considered  as  established.  The  men 
destroyed  by  the  one  recorded  by  Moses  are  described 
by  him  as  exceedingly  wicked,  so  that  "  the  earth  was 
filled  with  violence."  In  his  eyes  the  Flood  was  de- 
signed for  their  extermination. 

That  their  condition  was  evil  must  be  fully  believed 
if  they  were  condemned  by  the  executive  of  the  Jewish 
law.  This  law,  it  will  be  remembered,  permitted  polyg- 
amy, slavery,  revenge,  aggressive  war.  The  Jews  were 
expected  to  rob  their  neighbors  the  Egyptians  of  jewels, 
and  they  were  allowed  "  an  eye  for  an  eye  and  a  tooth 
for  a  tooth."  They  were  expected  to  butcher  other  na- 
tions, with  their  women  and  children,  their  flocks  and 
their  herds.  If  we  look  at  the  lives  of  men  recorded 
in  the  Old  Testament  as  examples  of  distinguished  ex- 
cellence, we  find  that  their  standard,  however  superior 
to  that  of  the  people  around  them,  would  ill  accord 
with  the  morality  of  the  present  day.  They  were  all 


1  205 

polygamists,  slaveholders  and  warriors.  Abraham 
treated  Hagar  and  Ishmael  with  inhumanity.  Jacob, 
with  his  mother's  aid,  deceived  Isaac,  and  received 
thereby  a  blessing  which  extended  to  the  whole  Jewish 
nation.  David,  a  man  whom  Paul  tells  us  the  Lord 
found  to  be  after  his  own  heart,  slew  the  messenger  who 
brought  tidings  of  the  death  of  Saul,  and  committed 
other  acts  which  would  stain  the  reputation  of  a  Chris- 
tian beyond  redemption.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to 
turn  to-  other  nations  if  this  be  true  of  the  chosen  men 
of  a  chosen  people.  History  indeed  presents  us  with 
no  people  prior  to,  or  contemporary  with,  the  Jews  who 
were  not  morally  their  inferiors. 

If  we  turn  to  more  modern  periods,  an  examination 
of  the  morality  of  Greece  and  Rome  reveals  a  curious 
intermixture  of  lower  and  higher  moral  conditions. 
While  each  of  these  nations  produced  excellent  moral- 
ists, the  influence  of  their  teachings  was  not  sufficient 
to  elevate  the  masses  above  what  would  now  be  regarded 
as  a  very  low  standard.  The  popularity  of  those  scenes 
of  cruelty,  the  gladiatorial  shows  and  the  combats  with 
wild  beasts,  sufficiently  attests  this.  The  Roman  virtue 
of  patriotism,  while  productive  of  many  noble  deeds,  is 
in  itself  far  from  being  a  disinterested  one,  but  partakes 
rather  of  the  nature  of  partisanship  and  selfishness.  If 
the  Greeks  were  superior  to  the  Romans  in  humanity, 
they  were  apparently  their  inferiors  in  the  social  virtues, 
and  were  much  below  the  standard  of  Christian  nations 
in  both  respects. 

Ancient  history  points  to  a  state  of  chronic  war,  in 
which  the  social  relations  were  in  confusion,  and  the 
development  of  the  useful  arts  was  almost  impossible. 
Savage  races,  which  continue  to  this  day  in  a  similar 


(  62  ) 

moral  condition,  are,  we  may  easily  believe,  most  un- 
happy. They  are  generally  divided  into  tribes,  which 
are  mutually  hostile,  or  friendly  only  with  the  view  of 
injuring  sorne  other  tribe.  Might  is  their  law,  and  rob- 
bery, rapine  and  murder  express  their  mutual  relations. 
This  is  the  history  of  the  lowest  grade  of  barbarism, 
and  the  history  of  primeval  man  so  far  as  it  has  come 
down  to  us  in  sacred  and  profane  records.  Man  as  a 
species  first  appears  in  history  as  a  sinful  being.  Then 
a  race  maintaining  a  contest  with  the  prevailing  corrup- 
tion and  exhibiting  a  higher  moral  ideal  is  presented  to 
us  in  Jewish  history.  Finally,  early  Christian  society 
exhibits  a  greatly  superior  condition  of  things.  In  it 
polygamy  scarcely  existed,  and  slavery  and  war  were 
condemned.  But  progress  did  not  end  here,  for  our 
Lord  said,  "  I  have  yet  many  things  to  say  unto  you, 
but  ye  cannot  bear  them  now.  Howbeit,  when  He,  the 
spirit  of  truth,  is  come,  He  will  guide  you  into  all  truth." 
The  progress  revealed  to  us  by  history  is  truly  great, 
and  if  a  similar  difference  existed  between  the  first  of 
the  human  species  and  the  first  of  whose  condition  we 
have  information,  we  can  conceive  how  low  the  origin 
must  have  been.  History  begins  with  a  considerable 
progress  in  civilization,  and  from  this  we  must  infer  a 
long  preceding  period  of  human  existence,  such  as  a 
gradual  evolution  would  require. 

y.  Rationale  of  Moral  Development. 

I.  Of  the  Species.  Let  us  now  look  at  the  moral  con- 
dition of  the  infant  man  of  the  present  time.  We  know 
his  small  accountability,  his  trust,  his  .innocence.  We 
know  that  he  is  free  from  the  law  that  when  he  "  would 


(  $3  )  207 

do  good,  evil  is  present  with  him,"  for  good  and  evil 
are  alike  unknown.  We  know  that  until  growth  has 
progressed  to  a  certain  degree  he  fully  deserves  the 
praise  pronounced  by  Our  Saviour,  that  "  of  such  is  the 
kingdom  of  heaven."  Growth,  however,  generally  sees 
a  change.  We  know  that  the  buddings  of  evil  appear 
but  too  soon :  the  lapse  of  a  few  months  sees  exhibi- 
tions of  anger,  disobedience,  malice,  falsehood,  and 
their  attendants — the  fruit  of  a  corruption  within  not 
manifested  before. 

In  early  youth  it  may  be  said  that  moral  suscepti- 
bility is  often  in  inverse  ratio  to  physical  vigor.  But 
with  growth  the  more  physically  vigorous  are  often 
sooner  taught  the  lessons  of  life,  for  their  energy  brings 
them  into  earlier  conflict  with  the  antagonisms  and  con- 
tradictions of  the  world.  Here  is  a  beautiful  example 
of  the  benevolent  principle  of  compensation. 

i.  Innocence  and  the  Fall.  If  physical  evolution  be  a 
reality,  we  have  reason  to  believe  that  the  infantile 
stage  of  human  morals,  as  well  as  of  human  intellect, 
was  much  prolonged  in  the  history  of  our  first  parents. 
This  constitutes  the  period  of  human  purity,  when  we 
are  told  by  Moses  that  the  first  pair  dwelt  in  Eden. 
But  the  growth  to  maturity  saw  the  development  of  all 
the  qualities  inherited  from  the  irresponsible  denizen  of 
the  forest.  Man  inherits  from  his  predecessors  in  the 
creation  the  buddings  of  reason :  he  inherits  passions, 
propensities  and  appetites.  His  corruption  is  that  of 
his  animal  progenitors,  and  his  sin  is  the  low  and  bestial 
instinct  of  the  brute  creation.  Thus  only  is  the  origin 
of  sin  made  clear — a  problem  which  the  pride  of  man 
would  have  explained  in  any  other  way  had  it  b^en 
possible. 


(  64  ) 

But  how  startling  the  exhibition  of  evil  by  this  new 
being  as  compared  with  the  scenes  of  the  countless  ages 
already  past !  Then  the  right  of  the  strongest  was 
God's  law,  and  rapine  and  destruction  were  the  history 
of  life.  But  into  man  had  been  "breathed  the  breath 
of  life,"  and  he  had  "become  a  living  soul."  The  law 
of  right,  the  Divine  Spirit,  was  planted  within  him,  and 
the  laws  of  the  beast  were  in  antagonism  to  that  law. 
The  natural  development  of  his  inherited  qualities 
necessarily  brought  him  into  collision  with  that  higher 
standard  planted  within  him,  and  that  war  was  com- 
menced which  shall  never  cease  "  till  He  hath  put  all 
things  under  His  feet."  The  first  act  of  man's  disobe- 
dience constituted  the  Fall,  and  with  it  would  come  the 
first  intellectual  "knowledge  of  good  and  of  evil" — 
an  apprehension  up  to  that  time  derived  exclusively 
from  the  divinity  within,  or  conscience.* 

2.  Free  Agency.  Heretofore  development  had  been 
that  of  physical  types,  but  the  Lord  had  rested  on  the 
seventh  day,  for  man  closed  the  line  of  the  physical 
creation.  Now  a  new  development  was  to  begin — the 
development  of  mind,  of  morality  and  of  grace. 

*  In  our  present  translation  of  Genesis,  the  Fall  is  ascribed  to 
the  influence  of  Satan  assuming  the  form  of  the  serpent,  and  this 
animal  was  cursed  in  consequence,  and  compelled  to  assume  a 
prone  position.  This  rendering  may  well  be  revised,  since  serpents, 
prone  like  others,  existed  in  both  America  and  Europe  during  the 
Eocene  epoch,  five  times  as  great  a  period  before  Adam  as  has 
elapsed  since  his  day.  Clark  states,  with  great  probability,  that 
"  serpent "  should  be  translated  monkey  or  ape — a  conclusion,  it 
will  be  observed,  exactly  coinciding  with  our  inductions  on  the  basis 
of  evolution.  The  instigation  to  evil  by  an  ape  merely  states  in- 
heritance in  another  form.  His  curse,  then,  refers  to  the  retention 
of  the  horizontal  position  by  all  other  quadrumana,  as  we  find  it 
at  the  present  day. 


(  65  )  209; 

On  the  previous  days  of  Creation  all  had  progressed 
in  accordance  with  inevitable  law  apart  from  its  objects. 
Now  two  lines  of  development  were  at  the  disposal  of 
this  being,  between  which  his  free  will  was  to  choose. 
Did  he  choose  the  courses  dictated  by  the  spirit  of  the 
brute,  he  was  to  be  subject  to  the  old  law  of  the  brute 
creation — the  right  of  the  strongest  and  spiritual  death. 
Did  he  choose  the  guidance  of  the  Divine  Guest  in  his 
heart,  he  became  subject  to  the  laws  which  are  to  guide 
— I.  the  human  species  to  an  ultimate  perfection,  so  far 
as  consistent  with  this  world ;  and  II.  the  individual 
man  to  a  higher  life,  where  a  new  existence  awaits  him 
as  a  spiritual  being,  freed  from  the  laws  of  terrestrial 
matter. 

The  charge  brought  against  the  theory  of  develop- 
ment, that  it  implies  a  necessary  progress  of  man  to  all 
perfection  without  his  cooperation — or  necessitarianism, 
as  it  is  called — is  unfounded. 

The  free  will  of  man  remains  the  source  alike  of  his 
progress  and  his  relapse.  But  the  choice  once  made, 
the  laws  of  spiritual  development  are  apparently  as  in- 
evitable as  those  of  matter.  Thus  men  whose  religious 
capacities  are  increased  by  attention  to  the  Divine  Mon- 
itor within  are  in  the  advance  of  progress — progress 
coinciding  with  that  which  in  material  things  is  called 
the  harmonic.  On  the  other  hand,  those  whose  motives 
are  of  the  lower  origin  fall  under  the  working  of  the 
law  of  conflict. 

The  lesson  derivable  from  the  preceding  considera- 
tions would  seem  to  be  u  necessitarian  "  as  respects  the 
whole  human  race,  considered  by  itself;  and  I  believe 
it  is  to  be  truly  so  interpreted.  That  is,  the  Creator  of 
all  things  has  set  agencies  at  work  which  will  slowly 


(  66  ) 

develop  a  perfect  humanity  out  of  His  lower  creation, 
and  nothing  can  thwart  the  process  or  alter  the  result. 
"  My  word  shall  not  return  unto  Me  void,  but  it  shall 
accomplish  that  which  I  please,  and  it  shall  prosper  in 
the  thing  whereto  I  sent  it."  This  is  our  great  encour- 
agement, our  noblest  hope — second  only  to  that  which 
looks  to  a  blessed  inheritance  in  another  world.  It  is 
this  thought  that  should  inspire  the  farmer,  who  as  he 
toils  wonders,  "  Why  all  this  labor  ?  The  Good  Father 
could  have  made  me  like  the  lilies,  who,  though  they 
toil  not,  neither  spin,  are  yet  clothed  in  glory ;  and  why 
should  I,  a  nobler  being,  be  subject  to  the  dust  and  the 
sweat  of  labor  ?"  This  thought  should  enlighten  every 
artisan  of  the  thousands  that  people  the  factories  and 
guide  their  whirling  machinery  in  our  modern  cities. 
Every  revolution  of  a  wheel  is  moving  the  car  of  pro- 
gress, and  the  timed  stroke  of  the  crank  and  the 
rhythmic  throw  of  the  shuttle  are  but  the  music  the 
spheres  have  sung  since  time  began.  A  new  significance 
then  appears  in  the  prayer  of  David :  "  Let  the  beauty 
of  the  Lord  our  God  be  upon  us,  and  establish  Thou  the 
work  of  our  hands  upon  us :  the  work  of  our  hands, 
O  Lord,  establish  Thou  it."  But  beware  of  the  catas- 
trophe, for  "  He  will  sit  as  a  refiner  :"  "  the  wheat  shall 
be  gathered  into  barns,  but  the  chaff  shall  be  burned 
with  unquenchable  fire."  If  this  be  true,  let  us  look 
for— 

3.  The  Extinction  of  Evil.  How  is  necessitarianism 
to  be  reconciled  with  free  will  ?  It  appears  to  me,  thus : 
When  a  being  whose  safety  depends  on  the  perfection 
of  a  system  of  laws  abandons  the  system  by  which  he 
lives,  he  becomes  subject  to  that  lower  grade  of  laws 
which  govern  lower  intelligences.  Man?  falling  from 


(67) 


211 


the  laws  of  right,  comes  under  the  dominion  of  the 
laws  of  brute  force ;  as  said  our  Saviour  :  "  Salt  is  good, 
but  if  the  salt  have  lost  his  savor,  it  is  thenceforth  good 
for  nothing  but  to  be  cast  forth  and  trodden  under  foot 
of  men." 

Evil,  being  unsatisfying  to  the  human  heart,  is  in  its 
nature  ever  progressive,  whether  in  the  individual  or  the 
nation  ;  and  in  estimating  the  practical  results  to  man 
of  the  actions  prompted  by  the  lower  portion  of  our 
nature,  it  is  only  necessary  to  carry  out  to  its  full  devel- 
opment each  of  those  animal  qualities  which  may  in  cer- 
tain states  of  society  be  restrained  by  the  social  system. 
In  human  history  those  qualities  have  repeatedly  had 
this  development,  and  the  battle  of  progress  is  fought 
to  decide  whether  they  shall  overthrow  the  system  that 
restrains  them,  or  be  overthrown  by  it. 

Entire  obedience  to  the  lower  instincts  of  our  nature 
ensures  destruction  to  the  weaker,  and  generally  to  the 
stronger  also.  A  most  marked  case  of  this  kind  is  seen 
where  the  developed  vices  of  civilization  are  introduced 
among  a  savage  people — as,  for  example,  the  North 
American  Indians.  These  seem  in  consequence  to  be 
hastening  to  extinction. 

But  a  system  or  a  circuit  of  existence  has  been 
allotted  to  the  civil  associations  of  the  animal  species 
man,  independently  of  his  moral  development.  It  may 
be  briefly  stated  thus  :  Races  begin  as  poor  offshoots  or 
emigrants  from  a  parent  stock.  The  law  of  labor  de- 
velops their  powers,  and  increases  their  wealth  and 
numbers.  These  will  be  diminished  by  their  various 
vices  ;  but  on  the  whole,  in  proportion  as  the  intel- 
lectual and  economical  elements  prevail,  wealth  will  in- 
crease ;  that  is,  they  accumulate  power,  When  this  has 


212  (68) 

been  accomplished,  and  before  activity  has  slackened 
its  speed,  the  nation  has  reached  the  culminating  point, 
and  then  it  enters  upon  the  period  of  decline.  The  re- 
straints imposed  by  economy  and  active  occupation  be- 
ing removed,  the  beastly  traits  find  in  accumulated 
power  only  increased  means  of  gratification,  and  indus- 
try and  prosperity  sink  together.  Power  is  squandered, 
little  is  accumulated,  and  the  nation  goes  down  to  its 
extinction  amid  scenes  of  internal  strife  and  vice.  Its 
cycle  is  soon  fulfilled,  and  other  nations,  fresh  from 
scenes  of  labor,  assault  it,  absorb  its  fragments,  and  it 
dies.  This  has  been  the  world's  history,  and  it  remains 
to  be  seen  whether  the  virtues  of  the  nations  now  exist- 
ing will  be  sufficient  to  save  them  from  a  like  fate. 

Thus  the  history  of  the  animal  man  in  nations  is 
wonderfully  like  that  of  the  type  or  families  of  the  ani- 
mal and  vegetable  kingdoms  during  geologic  ages. 
They  rise,  they  increase  and  reach  a  period  of  mul- 
tiplication and  power.  The  force  allotted  to  them  be- 
coming exhausted,  they  diminish  and  sink  and  die. 

II.  Of  the  Individual.  In  discussing  physical  devel- 
opment, we  are  as  yet  compelled  to  restrict  ourselves  to 
the  evidence  of  its  existence  and  some  laws  observed  in 
the  operation  of  its  causative  force.  What  that  force 
is,  or  what  are  its  primary  laws,  we  know  not. 

So  in  the  progress  of  moral  development  we  endeavor 
to  prove  its  existence  and  the  mode  of  its  operation, 
but  why  that  mode  should  exist,  rather  than  some  other 
mode,  we  cannot  explain. 

The  moral  progress  of  the  species  depends,  of  course, 
on  the  moral  progress  of  the  individuals  embraced  in  it. 
Religion  is  the  sum  of  those  influences  which  determine 
the  motives  of  men's  actions  into  harmony  with  the  Pi- 


{  «9  )  "3 

vine  perfection  and  the  Divine  will.  Obedience  to  these 
influences  constitutes  the  practice  of  religion,  while  the 
statement  of  the  growth  and  operation  of  these  influ- 
ences constitutes  the  theory  of  religion,  or  doctrine. 

The  Divine  Spirit  planted  in  man  shows  him  that 
which  is  in  harmony  with  the  Divine  Mind,  and  it  re- 
mains for  his  free  will  to  conform  to  it  or  reject  it.  This 
harmony  is  man's  highest  ideal  of  happiness,  and  in 
seeking  it,  as  well  as  in  desiring  to  flee  from  dissonance 
or  pain,  he  but  obeys  the  disposition  common  to  all 
conscious  beings.  If,  however,  he  attempts  to  conform 
to  it,  he  will  find  the  law  of  evil  present,  and  frequently 
obtaining  the  mastery.  If  now  he  be  in  any  degree  ob- 
serving, he  will  find  that  the  laws  of  morality  and  right 
are  the  only  ones  by  which  human  society  exists  in  a 
condition  superior  to  that  of  the  lower  animals,  and  in 
which  the  capacities  of  man  for  happiness  can  approach 
a  state  of  satisfaction.  He  may  be  then  said  to  be 
"  awakened  "  to  the  importance  of  religion.  If  he  carry 
on  the  struggle  to  attain  to  the  high  goal  presented  to 
his  spiritual  vision,  he  will  be  deeply  grieved  and  hum- 
bled at  his  failures  :  then  he  is  said  to  be  "  convicted." 
Under  these  circumstances  the  necessity  of  a  deliver- 
ance becomes  clear,  and  is  willingly  accepted  in  the 
only  way  in  which  it  has  pleased  the  Author  of  all  to 
present  it,  which  has  been  epitomized  by  Paul  as  "  the 
washing  of  regeneration  and  renewal  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
through  Jesus  Christ."  Thus  a  life  of  advanced  and 
ever-advancing  moral  excellence  becomes  possible,  and 
the  man  makes  nearer  approaches  to  the  "image  of 
God." 

Thus  is  opened  a  new  era  in  spiritual  development, 
which  we  are  led  to  believe  leads  to  an  ultimate  condi- 


( yes ) 

tion  in  which  the  nature  inherited  from  our  origin  is  en- 
tirely overcome,  and  an  existence  of  moral  perfection 
entered  on.  Thus  in  the  book  of  Mark  the  simile  oc- 
curs :  "  First  the  blade,  then  the  ear,  after  that  the  full 
corn  in  the  ear ;"  and  Solomon  says  that  the  develop- 
ment of  righteousness  "  shines  more  and  more  unto  the 
perfect  day." 

8.  Summary. 

If  it  be  true  that  general  development  in  morality 
proceeds  in  spite  of  the  original  predominance  of  evil 
in  the  world,  through  the  self-destructive  nature  of  the 
latter,  it  is  only  necessary  to  examine  the  reasons  why 
the  excellence  of  the  good  may  have  been  subject  also 
to  progress,  and  how  the  remainder  of  the  race  may 
have  been  influenced  thereby. 

The  development  of  morality  is  then  probably  to  be 
understood  in  the  following  sense  :  Since  the  Divine 
Spirit,  as  the  prime  force  in  moral  progress,  cannot  in 
itself  be  supposed  to  have  been  in  any  way  under 
the  influence  of  natural  laws,  its  capacities  were  no 
doubt  as  eternal  and  unerring  in  the  first  man  as  in  the 
last.  But  the  facts  and  probabilities  discussed  above 
point  to  development  Of  religious  sensibility^  or  capacity 
to  appreciate  moral  good,  or  to  receive  impressions  from 
the  source  of  good. 

The  evidence  of  this  is  supposed  to  be  seen  in — 
First,  improvement  in  man's  views  of  his  duty  to  his 
neighbor ;  and  Second^  the  substitution  of  spiritual  for 
symbolic  religions  :  in  other  words,  improvement  in  the 
capacity  for  receiving  spiritual  impressions. 

What  the  primary  cause  of  this  supposed  develop- 


(7O  215 

ment  of  religious  sensibility  may  have  been,  is  a  ques- 
tion we  reverently  leave  untouched.  That  it  is  inti- 
mately connected  in  some  way  with,  and  in  part 
dependent  on,  the  evolution  of  the  intelligence,  ap- 
pears very  probable :  for  this  evolution  is  seen — First, 
in  a  better  understanding  of  the  consequences  of  action, 
and  of  good  and  of  evil  in  many  things ;  and  Second,  in 
the  production  of  means  for  the  spread  of  the  special 
instrumentalities  of  good.  The  following  may  be  enu- 
merated as  such  instrumentalities : 

1.  Furnishing  literary  means  of  record  and  distribu- 
tion of  the  truths  of  religion,  morality  and  science. 

2.  Creating  and  increasing  modes  of  transportation 
of  teachers  and  literary  means  of  disseminating  truth. 

3.  Facilitating  the  migration  and  the  spread  of  na- 
tions  holding    the    highest    position    in   the   scale   of 
morality. 

4.  The  increase  of  wealth,  which  multiplies  the  ex- 
tent of  the  preceding  means. 

And  now,  let  no  man  attempt  to  set  bounds  to  this 
development.  Let  no  man  say  even  that  morality  ac- 
complished is  all  that  is  required  of  mankind,  since 
that  is  not  necessarily  the  evidence  of  a  spiritual  devel- 
opment. If  a  man  possess  the  capacity  for  progress 
beyond  the  condition  in  which  he  finds  himself,  in  re- 
fusing to  enter  upon  it  he  declines  to  conform  to  the 
Divine  law.  And  "from  those  to  whom  little  is  given, 
little  is  required,  but  from  those  to  whom  much  is  given, 
much  shall  be  required.'* 


SCIENTIFIC   ADDRESSES. 


TYNDALL'S  ADDRESSES. 


I. 


On   the  Methods   and    Tendencies   of  Phys- 
ical Investigation. 

The  celebrated  Fichte,  in  his  lectures  on  the  "  Voca- 
tion of  the  Scholar,"  insisted  on  a  culture  for  the  scholar 
which  should  not  be  one-sided,  but  all-sided.  His  intel- 
lectual nature  was  to  expand  spherically,  and  not  in  a 
single  direction.  In  one  direction,  however,  Fichte  re- 
quired that  the  scholar  should  apply  himself  directly  to 
nature,  become  a  creator  of  knowledge,  and  thus  repay, 
by  original  labors  of  his  own,  the  immense  debt  he  owed 
to  the  labors  of  others.  It  was  these  which  enabled  him 
to  supplement  the  knowledge  derived  from  his  own  re- 
searches, so  as  to  render  his  culture  rounded,  and  not 
one-sided. 

Fichte's  idea  is  to  some  extent  illustrated  by  the  con^ 
stitution  and  the'fabors  of  the  British  Association.  We 
have  here  a  body  of  men  engaged  in  the  pursuit  of  nat- 
ural knowledge,  but  variously  engaged.  While  sympa- 
thizing with  each  of  its  departments,  and  supplement- 
ing his  culture  by  knowledge  drawn  from  all  of  them, 


(6) 

each  student  amongst  us  selects  one  subject  for  the  ex- 
ercise of  his  own  original  faculty — one  line  along  which 
he  may  carry  the  light  of  his  private  intelligence  a  little 
way  into  the  darkness  by  which  all  knowledge  is  sur- 
rounded. Thus,  the  geologist  faces  the  rocks  ;  the  biol- 
ogist fronts  the  conditions  and  phenomena  of  life  ;  the 
astronomer,  stellar  masses  and  motions  ;  the  mathema- 
tician the  properties  of  space  and  number  ;  the  chemist 
pursues  his  atoms,  while  the  physical  investigator  has 
his  own  large  field  in  optical,  thermal,  electrical,  acous- 
tical, and  other  phenomena.  The  British  Association, 
then,  faces  nature  on  all  sides,  and  pushes  knowledge 
centrifugally  outwards,  while,  through  circumstance  or 
natural  bent,  each  of  its  working  members  takes  up  a 
certain  line  of  research  in  which  he  aspires  to  be  an 
original  producer,  being  content  in  all  other  directions 
to  accept  instruction  from  his  fellow-men.  The  sum  of 
our  labors  constitutes  what  Fichte  might  call  the  sphere 
of  natural  knowledge.  In  the  meetings  of  the  Associa- 
tion it  is  found  necessary  to  resolve  this  sphere  into  its 
component  parts,  which  take  concrete  form  under  the 
respective  letters  of  our  sections. 

This  section  (A)  is  called  the  Mathematical  and  Phys- 
ical section.  Mathematics  and  Physics  have  been  long 
accustomed  to  coalesce,  and  hence  this  grouping.  For 
while  mathematics,  as  a  product  of  the  human  mind,  is 
self-sustaining  and  nobly  self-rewarding, — while  the  pure 
mathematician  may  never  trouble  his  mind  with  consid- 
erations regarding  the  phenomena  of  the  material  uni- 
verse, still  the  form  of  reasoning  which  he  employs,  the 
power  which  the  organization  of  that  reasoning  confers, 
the  applicability  of  his  abstract  conceptions  to  actual 
phenomena,  render  his  science  one  of  the  most  potent 


(7)  »« 

instruments  in  the  solution  of  natural  problems.  In- 
deed, without  mathematics,  expressed  or  implied,  our 
knowledge  of  physical  science  would  be  friable  in  the 
extreme. 

Side  by  side  with  the  mathematical  method,  we  have 
the  method  of  experiment.  Here,  from  a  starting-point 
furnished  by  his  own  researches  or  those  of  others,  the 
investigator  proceeds  by  combining  intuition  and  verifi- 
cation. He  ponders  the  knowledge  he  possesses  and 
tries  to  push  it  further,  he  guesses  and  checks  his  guess, 
he  conjectures  and  confirms  or  explodes  his  conjecture. 
These  guesses  and  conjectures  are  by  no  means  leaps  in 
the  dark ;  for  knowledge  once  gained  casts  a  faint  light 
beyond  its  own  immediate  boundaries.  There  is  no  dis- 
covery so  limited  as  not  to  illuminate  something  beyond 
itself.  The  force  of  intellectual  penetration  into  this 
penumbral  region  which  surrounds  actual  knowledge  is 
not  dependent  upon  method,  but  is  proportional  to  the 
genius  of  the  investigator.  There  is,  however,  no  genius 
so  gifted  as  not  to  need  control  and  verification.  The 
profoundest  minds  know  best  that  nature's  ways  are  not 
at  all  times  their  ways,  and  that  the  brightest  flashes  in 
the  world  of  thought  are  incomplete  until  they  have 
been  proved  to  have  their  counterparts  in  the  world  of 
fact.  The  vocation  of  the  true  experimentalist  is  the 
incessant  correction  and  realization  of  his  insight ;  his 
experiments  finally  constituting  a  body,  of  which  his 
purified  intuitions  are,  as  it  were,  the  soul. 

Partly  through  mathematical,  and  partly  through  ex- 
perimental research,  physical  science  has  of  late  years 
assumed  a  momentous  position  in  the  world.  Both  in 
a  material  and  in  an  intellectual  point  of  view  it  has  pro- 
duced, and  it  is  destined  to  produce,  immense,  changes, 


222 


(8) 


vast  social  ameliorations,  and  vast  alterations  in  the 
popular  conception  of  the  origin,  rule,  and  governance 
of  things.  Miracles  are  wrought  by  science  in  the  phys- 
ical world,  while  philosophy  is  forsaking  its  ancient  met- 
aphysical channels,  and  pursuing  those  opened  or  indi- 
cated by  scientific  research.  This  must  become  more  and 
more  the  case  as  philosophic  writers  become  more  deeply 
imbued  with  the  methods  of  science,  better  acquainted 
with  the  facts  which  scientific  men  have  won,  and  with 
the  great  theories  which  they  have  elaborated. 

If  you  look  at  the  face  of  a  watch,  you  see  the  hour 
and  mirtute-hands,  and  possibly  also  a  second-hand, 
moving  over  the  graduated  dial.  Why  do  these  hands 
move,  and  why  are  their  relative  motions  such  as  they 
are  observed  to  be  ?  These  questions  cannot  be  an- 
swered without  opening  the  watch,  mastering  its  various 
parts,  and  ascertaining  their  relationship  to  each  other. 
When  this  is  done,  we  find  that  the  observed  motion  of 
the  hands  follows  of  necessity  from  the  inner  mechanism 
of  the  watch  when  acted  upon  by  the  force  invested  in 
the  spring. 

This  motion  of  the  hands  may  be  called  a  phenome- 
non of  art,  but  the  case  is  similar  with  the  phenomena 
of  Nature.  These  also  have  their  inner  mechanism,  and 
their  store  of  force  to  set  that  mechanism  going.  The 
ultimate  problem  of  physical  science  is  to  reveal  this 
mechanism,  to  discern  this  store,  and  to  show  that  from 
the  combined  action  of  both,  the  phenomena  of  which 
they  constitute  the  basis  must  of  necessity  flow. 

I  thought  that  an  attempt  to  give  you  even  a  brief  and 
sketchy  illustration  of  the  manner  in  which  scientific 
thinkers  regard  this  problem  would  not  be  uninteresting 
to  you  on  the  present  occasion ;  more  especially  as  it 


(9)  *23 

will  give  me  occasion  to  say  a  word  or  two  on  the  ten- 
dencies and  limits  of  modern  science,  to  point  out  the 
region  which  men  of  science  claim  as  their  own,  and 
where  it  is  mere  waste  of  time  to  oppose  their  advance, 
and  also  to  define,  if  possible,  the  bourne  between  this 
and  that  other  region  to  which  the  questionings  and 
yearnings  of  the  scientific  intellect  are  directed  in  vain. 

But  here  your  tolerance  will  be  needed.  It  was  the 
American  Emerson,  I  think,  who  said  that  it  is  hardly 
possible  to  state  any  truth  strongly  without  apparent  in- 
jury to  some  other  truth.  Under  the  circumstances,  the 
proper  course  appears  to  be  to  state  both  truths  strongly, 
and  allow  each  its  fair  share,  in  the  formation  of  the  re- 
sultant conviction.  For  truth  is  often  of  a  dual  charac- 
ter, taking  the  form  of  a  magnet  with  two  poles  ;  and 
many  of  the  differences  which  agitate  the  thinking  part 
of  mankind  are  to  be  traced  to  the  exclusiveness  with 
which  different  parties  affirm  one  half  of  the  duality  in 
forgetfulness  of  the  other  half.  But  this  waiting  for  the 
statement  of  the  two  sides  of  a  question  implies  pa- 
tience. It  implies  a  resolution  to  suppress  indignation  if 
the  statement  of  the  one  half  should  clash  with  our  con- 
victions, and  not  to  surfer  ourselves  to  be  cunduly  elated 
if  the  half-statement  should  chime  in  with  our  views. 
It  implies  a  determination  to  wait  calmly  for  the  state- 
ment of  the  whole  before  we  pronounce  judgment  either 
in  the  form  of  acquiescence  or  dissent. 

This  premised,  let  us  enter  upon  our  task.  There 
have  been  writers  who  affirmed  that  the  pyramids  of 
Egypt  were  the  productions  of  nature  ;  and  in  his  early 
youth  Alexander  Von  Humboldt  wrote  an  essay  with 
the  express  object  of  refuting  this  notion.  We  now  re- 
gard the  pyramids  as  the  work  of  men's  hands,  aided 


224  (I0> 

probably  by  machinery  of  which  no  record  remains. 
We  picture  to  ourselves  the  swarming  workers  toiling  at 
those  vast  erections,  lifting  the  inert  stones,  and,  guided 
by  the  volition,  the  skill,  and  possibly  at  times  by  the 
whip  of  the  architect,  placing  the  stones  in  their  proper 
positions.  The  blocks  in  this  case  were  moved  by  a 
power  external  to  themselves,  and  the  final  form  of  the 
pyramid  expressed  the  thought  of  its  human  builder. 

Let  us  pass  from  this  illustration  of  building  power  to 
another  of  a  different  kind.  When  a  solution  of  com- 
mon salt  is  slowly  evaporated,  the  water  which  holds  the 
salt  in  solution  disappears,  but  the  salt  itself  remains 
behind.  At  a  certain  stage  of  concentration,  the  salt 
can  no  longer  retain  the  liquid  form  ;  its  particles,  or 
molecules,  as  they  are  called,  begin  to  deposit  them- 
selves as  minute  solids,  so  minute,  indeed,  as  to  defy  all 
microscopic  power.  As  evaporation  continues  solidifi- 
cation goes  on,  and  we  finally  obtain,  through  the  clus- 
tering together  of  innumerable  molecules,  a  finite  mass 
of  salt  of  a  definite  form.  What  is  this  form  ?  It  some- 
times seems  a  mimicry  of  the  architecture  of  Egypt. 
We  have  little  pyramids  built  by  the  salt,  terrace  above 
terrace  from  ba^se  to  apex,  forming  thus  a  series  of  steps 
resembling  those  up  which  the  Egyptian  traveler  is 
dragged  by  his  guides.  The  human  mind  is  as  little  dis- 
posed to  look  at  these  pyramidal  salt-crystals  without 
further  question  as  to  look  at  the  pyramids  of  Egypt 
without  inquiring  whence  they  came.  How,  then,  are 
those  salt  pyramids  built  up  ? 

Guided  by  analogy,  you  may  suppose  that,  swarming 
among  the  constituent  molecules  of  the  salt,  there  is  an 
invisible  population,  guided  and  coerced  by  some  invis- 
ible master,  and  placing  the  ajtomic_blqcks  in  their  posi- 


(n)  225 

tions.  This,  however,  is  not  the  scientific  idea,  nor  do 
I  think  your  good  sense  will  accept  it  as  a  likely  one. 
The  scientific  idea  is  that  the  molecules  act  upon  each 
other  without  the  intervention  of  slave  labor  j  that  they 
attract  each  other  and  repel  each  other  at  certain 
definite  points,  and  in  certain  definite  directions  j  and 
that  the  pyramidal  form  is  the  result  of  this  play  of  at- 
traction and  repulsion.  While,  then,  the  blocks  of 
Egypt  were  laid  down  by  a  power  external  to  them- 
selves, these  molecular  blocks  of  salt  are  self-posited, 
being  fixed  in  their  places  by  the  forces  with  which  they 
act  upon  each  other. 

I  take  common  salt  as  an  illustration,  because  it  is  so 
familiar  to  us  all ;  but  almost  any  other  substance  would 
answer  my  purpose  equally  well.  In  fact,  throughout 
inorganic  nature,  we  have  this  formative  power,  as 
Fichte  would  call  it — this  structural  energy  ready  to 
come  into  play,  and  build  the  ultimate  particles  of  mat- 
ter into  definite  shapes.  It  is  present  everywhere.  The 
ice  of  our  winters  and  of  our  polar  regions  is  its  hand- 
work, and  so  equally  are  the  quartz,  feldspar,  and  mica 
of  our  rocks.  Our  chalk-beds  are  for  the  most  part 
composed-  of  minute  shells,  which  are  also  the  product 
of  structural  energy  ;  but  behind  the  shell,  as  a  whole, 
lies  the  result  of  another  and  more  subtle  formative  act. 
These  shells  are  built  up  of  little  crystals  of  calc-spar, 
and  to  form  these  the  structural  force  had  to  deal  with 
the  intangible  molecules  of  carbonate  of  lime.  This  ten- 
dency on  the  part  of  matter  to  organize  itself,  to  grow 
into  shape,  to  assume  definite  forms  in  obedience  to  the 
definite  action  of  force,  is,  as  I  have  said,  all-pervading. 
It  is  in  the  ground  on  which  you  tread,  in  the  water  you 
drink,  in  the  air  you  breathe.  Incipient  life,  in  fact, 


226  (   I2  ) 

manifests  itself  throughout  the  whole  of  what  we  call 
inorganic  nature. 

The  forms  of  minerals  resulting  from  this  play  of 
forces  are  various,  and  exhibit  different  degrees  of  com- 
plexity. Men  of  science  avail  themselves  of  all  possible 
means  of  exploring  this  moleculer  architecture.  For 
this  purpose  they  employ  in  turn  as  agents  of  explora- 
tion, light,  heat,  magnetism,  electricity,  and  sound. 
Polarized  light  is  especially  useful  and  powerful  here. 
A  beam  of  such  light,  when  sent  in  among  the  mole- 
cules of  a  crystal,  is  acted  on  by  them,  and  from  this  ac- 
tion we  infer  with  more  or  less  of  clearness  the  manner 
in  which  the  molecules  are  arranged.  The  difference, 
for  example,  between  the  inner  structure  of  a  plate  of 
rock-salt  and  a  plate  of  crystalized  sugar  or  sugar-candy 
is  thus  strikingly  revealed.  These  differences  may  be 
made  to  display  themselves  in  phenomena  of  color  of 
great  splendor,  the  play  of  molecular  force  being  so  reg- 
ulated as  to  remove  certain  of  the  colored  constituents 
of  white  light,  and  to  leave  others  with  increased  inten- 
sity behind. 

And  now  let  us  pass  from  what  we  are  accustomed  to 
regard  as  a  dead  mineral  to  a  living  grain  of  corn. 
When  it  is  examined  by  polarized  light,  chromatic  phe- 
nomena similar  to  those  noticed  in  crystals  are  observed. 
And  why  ?  Because  the  architecture  of  the  grain  re- 
sembles in  some  degree  the  architecture  of  the  crystal. 
In  the  corn  the  molecules  are  also  set  in  definite  posi- 
tions, from  which  they  act  upon  the  light.  But  what 
has  built  together  the  molecules  of  the  corn  ?  I  have 
already  said,  regarding  crystalline  architecture,  that  you 
may,  if  you  please,  consider  the  atoms  and  molecules  to 
be  placed  in  position  by  a  power  external  to  themselves. 


*3  227 

The  same  hypothesis  is  open  to  you  now.  But,  if  in  the 
case  of  crystals  you  have  rejected  this  notion  of  an  ex- 
ternal architect,  I  think  you  are  bound  to  reject  it  now, 
and  to  conclude  that  the  molecules  of  the  corn  are  self- 
posited  by  the  forces  with  which  they  act  upon  each 
other.  It  would  be  poor  philosophy  to  invoke  an  exter- 
nal agent  in  the  one  case  and  to  reject  it  in  the  other. 

Instead  of  cutting  our  grain  into  thin  slices  and  sub- 
jecting it  to  the  action  of  polarized  light,  let  us  place  it 
in  the  earth  and  subject  it  to  a  certain  degree  of  warmth. 
In  other  words,  let  the  molecules,  both  of  the  corn  and 
of  the  surrounding  earth,  be  kept  in  a  state  of  agitation  ; 
for  warmth,  as  most  of  you  know,  is,  in  the  eye  of 
science,  tremulous  molecular  motion.  Under  these  cir- 
cumstances, the  grain  and  the  substances  which  surround 
it  interact,  and  a  molecular  architecture  is  the  result  of 
this  interaction.  A  bud  is  formed  ;  this  bud  reaches 
the  surface,  where  it  is  exposed  to  the  sun's  rays,  which 
are  also  to  be  regarded  as  a  kind  of  vibratory  motion. 
And  as  the  common  motion  of  heat  with  which  the  grain 
and  the  substances  surrounding  it  were  first  endowed, 
enable  the  grain  and  these  substances  to  coalesce,  so  the 
specific  motion  of  the  sun's  rays  now  enables  the  green 
bud  to  feed  upon  the  carbonic  acid  and  the  aqueous 
vapor  of  the  air,  appropriating  those  constituents  of 
both  for  which  the  blade  has  an  elective  attraction,  and 
permitting  the  other  constituent  to  resume  its  place  in 
the  air.  Thus  forces  are  active  at  the  root,  forces  are 
active  in  the  blade,  the  matter  of  the  earth  and  the 
matter  of  the  atmosphere  are  drawn  towards  the  plant, 
and  the  plant  augments  in  size.  We  have  in  succession, 
the  bud,  the  stalk,  the  ear,  the  full  corn  in  the  ear.  For 
the  forces  here  at  play  act  in  a  cycle,  which  is  completed 


228  (  I4  ) 

by  the  production  of  grains  similar  to  that  with  which 
the  process  began. 

Now  there  is  nothing  in  this  process  which  necessarily 
eludes  the  power  of  mind  as  we  know  it.  An  intellect 
the  same  kind  as  our  own,  would,  if  only  sufficiently  ex- 
panded, be  able  to  follow  the  whole  process  from  begin- 
ning to  end.  No  entirely  new  intellectual  faculty  would 
be  needed  for  this  purpose.  The  duly  expanded  mind 
would  see  in  the  process  and  its  consummation  an  in- 
stance of  the  play  of  molecular  force.  It  would  see 
every  molecule  placed  in  its  position  by  the  specific  at- 
tractions and  repulsions  exerted  between  it  and  other 
molecules.  Nay,  given  the  grain  and  its  environment, 
an  intellect  the  same  in  kind  as  our  own,  but  sufficiently 
expanded,  might  trace  out  d  priori  every  step  of  the  pro- 
cess, and  by  the  application  of  mechanical  principles 
would  be  able  to  demonstrate  that  the  cycle  of  actions 
must  end,  as  it  is  seen  to  end,  in  the  reproduction  of 
forms  like  that  with  which  the  operation  began.  A  sim- 
ilar necessity  rules  here  to  that  which  rules  the  planets 
in  their  circuits  round  the  sun. 

You  will  notice  that  I  am  stating  my  truth  strongly, 
as  at  the  beginning  we  agreed  it  should  be  stated.  But 
I  must  go  still  further,  and  affirm  that  in  the  eye  of 
science  the  animal  body  is  just  as  much  the  product  of 
molecular  force  as  the  stalk  and  ear  of  corn,  or  as  the 
crystal  of  salt  or  sugar.  Many  of  its  parts  are  obviously 
mechanical.  Take  the  human  heart,  for  example,  with 
its  exquisite  system  of  valves,  or  take  the  eye  or  the 
hand.  Animal  heat,  moreover,  is  the  same  in  kind  as 
the  heat  of  a  fire,  being  produced  by  the  same  chemical 
process.  Animal  motion,  too,  is  as  directly  derived 
from  the  food  of  the  animal,  as  the  motion  of  Treve- 


T  229 

thyck's  walking-engine  from  the  fuel  in  its  furnace.  As 
regards  matter,  the  animal  body  creates  nothing ;  as  re- 
gards force,  it  creates  nothing.  Which  of  you  by  tak- 
ing thought  can  add  one  cubit  to  his  stature  ?  All  that 
has  been  said  regarding  the  plant  may  be  re-stated  with 
regard  to  the  animal.  Every  particle  that  enters  into 
the  composition  of  the  muscle,  a  nerve,  or  a  bone,  has 
been  placed  in  its  position  by  molecular  force.  And 
unless  the  existence  of  law  in  these  matters  be  denied, 
and  the  element  of  caprice  be  introduced,  we  must  con- 
clude that,  given  the  relation  of  any  molecule  of  the 
body  to  its  environment,  its  position  in  the  body  might 
be  predicted.  Our  difficulty  is  not  with  the  quality  of 
the  problem,  but  with  its  complexity ;  and  this  difficulty 
might  be  met  by  the  simple  expansion  of  the  faculties 
which  man  now  possesses.  Given  this  expansion,  and 
given  the  necessary  molecular  data,  and  the  chick  might 
be  deduced  as  rigorously  and  as  logically  from  the  egg 
as  the  existence  of  Neptune  was  deduced  from  the  dis- 
turbances of  Uranus,  or  as  conical  refraction  was  de- 
duced from  the  undulatory  theory  of  light. 

You  see  I  am  not  mincing  matters,  but  avowing 
nakedly  what  many  scientific  thinkers  more  or  less  dis- 
tinctly believe.  The  formation  of  a  crystal,  a  plant,  or 
an  animal,  is  in  their  eyes  a  purely  mechanical  problem, 
which  differs  from  the  problems  of  ordinary  mechanics  in 
the  smallness  of  the  masses  and  the  complexity  of  the 
processes  involved.  Here  you  have  one  half  of  our 
dual  truth ;  let  us  now  glance  at  the  other  half.  Asso- 
ciated with  this  wonderful  mechanism  of  the  animal 
body  we  have  phenomena  no  less  certain  than  those  of 
physics,  but  between  which  and  the  mechanism  we  dis- 
cern no  necessary  connection.  A  man,  for  example, 


230 


16 


can  say  I  feel,  I  think,  I  love  ;  but  how  does  conscious- 
ness infuse  itself  into  the  problem  ?  The  human  brain 
is  said  to  be  the  organ  of  thought  and  feeling  ;  when 
we  are  hurt  the  brain  feels  it,  when  we  ponder  it  is  the 
brain  that  thinks,  when  our  passions  or  affections  are 
excited  it  is  through  the  instrumentality  of  the  brain. 
Let  us  endeavor  to  be  a  little  more  precise  here.  I 
hardly  imagine  that  any  profound  scientific  thinker  who 
has  reflected  upon  the  subject  exists,  who  would  not  ad- 
mit the  extreme  probability  of  the  hypothesis,  that  for 
every  fact  of  consciousness,  whether  in  the  domain  of 
sense,  of  thought,  or  of  emotion,  a  certain  definite 
molecular  condition  is  set  up  in  the  brain  ;  that  this  re- 
lation of  physics  to  consciousness  is  invariable,  so  that, 
given  the  state  of  the  brain,  the  corresponding  thought 
or  feeling  might  be  inferred  ;  or,  given  the  thought  or 
feeling,  the  corresponding  state  of  the  brain  might  be 
inferred.  But  how  inferred  ?  It  is  at  bottom  not  a  case 
of  logical  inference  at  all,  but  of  empirical  association. 
You  may  reply  that  many  of  the  inferences  of  science 
are  of  this  character  ;  the  inference,  for  example,  that 
an  electric  current  of  a  given  direction  will  deflect  a 
magnetic  needle  in  a  definite  way  ;  but  the  cases  differ 
in  this,  that  the  passage  from  the  current  to  the  needle, 
if  not  demonstrable,  is  thinkable,  and  that  we  entertain 
no  doubt  as  to  the  final  mechanical  solution  of  the  prob- 
lem ;  but  the  passage  from  the  physics  of  the  brain  to 
the  corresponding  facts  of  consciousness  is  unthinka- 
ble. Granted  that  a  definite  thought  and  a  definite 
molecular  action  in  the  brain  occur  simultaneously,  we 
do  not  possess  the  intellectual  organ,  nor,  apparently, 
any  rudiment  of  the  organ,  which  would  enable  us  to 
pass  by  a  process  of  reasoning  from  the  one  phenome- 


non  to  the  other.  They  appear  together,  but  we  do  not 
know  why.  Were  our  minds  and  senses  so  expanded, 
strengthened,  and  illuminated  as  to  enable  us  to  see  and 
feel  the  very  molecules  of  the  brain ;  were  we  capable 
of  following  all  their  motions,  all  their  groupings,  all 
their  electric  discharges,  if  such  there  be  ;  and  were  we 
intimately  acquainted  with  the  corresponding  states  of 
thought  and  feeling,  we  should  be  as  far  as  ever  from 
the  solution  of  the  problem.  "  How  are  these  physical 
processes  connected  with  the  facts  of  consciousness  ?" 
The  chasm  between  the  two  classes  of  phenomena 
would  still  remain  intellectually  impassable.  Let  the 
consciousness  of  love,  for  example,  be  associated  with 
a  right-handed  spiral  motion  of  the  molecules  of  the 
brain,  and  the  consciousness  of  hate  with  a  left-handed 
spiral  motion.  We  should  then  know  when  we  love 
that  the  motion  is  in  one  direction,  and  when  we  hate 
that  the  motion  is  in  the  other  ;  but  the  "  WHY  ?"  would 
still  remain  unanswered. 

In  affirming  that  the  growth  of  the  body  is  mechan- 
ical, and  that  thought,  as  exercised  by  us,  has  its  cor- 
relative in  the  physics  of  the  brain,  I  think  the  position 
of  the  "  Materialist"  is  stated  as  far  as  that  position  is 
a  tenable  one.  I  think  the  materialist  will  be  able 
finally  to  maintain  this  position  against  all  attacks ;  but 
I  do  not  think,  as  the  human  mind  is  at  present  consti- 
tuted, that  he  can  pass  beyond  it.  I  do  not  think  he  is 
entitled  to  say  that  his  molecular  groupings  and  his 
molecular  motions  explain  everything.  In  reality  they 
explain  nothing.  The  utmost  he  can  affirm  is  the  asso- 
ciation of  two  classes  of  phenomena  of  whose  real  bond 
of  union  he  is  in  absolute  ignorance.  The  problem  of 
the  connection  of  the  body  and  soul  is  as  insoluble  in 


232  v  IQ  ) 

its  modern  form  as  it  was  in  the  pre-scientific  ages. 
Phosphorus  is  known  to  enter  into  the  composition  of 
the  human  brain,  and  a  courageous  writer  has  exclaimed, 
in  his  trenchant  German,  "  Ohne  phosphor  kein  ge- 
danke."  That  may  or  may  not  be  the  case  ;  but  even  if 
we  knew  it  to  be  the  case,  the  knowledge  would  not 
lighten  our  darkness.  On  both  sides  of.  the  zone  here 
assigned  to  the  materialist  he  is  equally  helpless.  If 
you  ask  him  whence  is  this  "  matter  "  of  which  we  have 
been  discoursing,  who  or  what  divided  it  into  molecules, 
who  or  what  impressed  upon  them  this  necessity  of  run- 
ning into  organic  forms,  he  has  no  answer.  Science 
also  is  mute  in  reply  to  these  questions.  But  if  the 
materialist  is  confounded,  and  science  rendered  dumb, 
who  else  is  entitled  to  answer?  To  whom  has  the 
secret  been  revealed  ?  Let  us  lower  our  heads  and  ac- 
knowledge our  ignorance,  one  and  all.  Perhaps  the 
mystery  may  resolve  itself  into  knowledge  at  some 
future  day.  The  process  of  things  upon  this  earth  has 
been  one  of  amelioration.  It  is  a  long  way  from  the 
Iguanodon  and  his  contemporaries  to  the  president  and 
members  of  the  British  Association.  And  whether  we 
regard  the  improvement  from  the  scientific  or  from  the 
theological  point  of  view  as  the  result  of  progressive 
development,  or  as  the  result  of  successive  exhibitions 
of  creative  energy,  neither  view  entitles  us  to  assume 
that  man's  present  faculties  end  the  series — that  the 
process  of  amelioration  stops  at  him.  A  time  may 
therefore  come  when  this  ultra-scientific  region  by  which 
we  are  now  enfolded  may  offer  itself  to  terrestrial,  if 
not  to  human  investigation.  Two-thirds  of  the  rays 
emitted  by  the  sun  fail  to  arouse  in  the  eye  the  sense  of 
vision.  The  rays  exist,  but  the  visual  organ  requisite 


'9 

for  their  translation  into  light  does  not  exist.  And  so 
from  this  region  of  darkness  and  mystery  which  sur- 
rounds us,  rays  may  now  be  darting  which  require  but 
the  development  of  the  proper  intellectual  organs  to 
translate  them  into  knowledge  as  far  surpassing  ours  as 
ours  does  that  of  the  wallowing  reptiles  which  once 
held  possession  of  this  planet.  Meanwhile  the  mystery 
is  not  without  its  uses.  It  certainly  may  be  made  a 
power  in  the  human  soul ;  but  it  is  a  power  which  has 
feeling,  not  knowledge,  for  its  base.  It  may  be,  and 
will  be,  and  we  hope  is  turned  to  account,  both  in  steady- 
ing and  strengthening  the  intellect,  and  in  rescuing  man 
from  that  littleness  to  which,  in  the  struggle  for  exist- 
ence or  for  precedence  in  the  world,  he  is  continually 
prone. 


II. 

On  Haze  and  Dust. 

Solar  light  in  passing  through  a  dark  room  reveals  its 
track  by  illuminating  the  dust  floating  in  the  air.  "  The 
sun,"  says  Daniel  Culverwell,  "  discovers  atomes,  though 
they  be  invisible  by  candle-light,  and  makes  them  dance 
naked  in  his  beams." 

In  my  researches  on  the  decomposition  of  vapors  by 
light,  I  was  compelled  to  remove  these  "  atomes  "  and 
this  dust.  It  was  essential  that  the  space  containing 
the  vapors  should  embrace  no  visible  thing ;  that  no 
substance  capable  of  scattering  the  light  in  the  slightest 
sensible  degree  should,  at  the  outset  of  an  experiment, 
be  found  in  the  "  experimental  tube  "  traversed  by  the 
luminous  beam. 

For  a  long  time  I  was  troubled  by  the  appearance 
there  of  floating  dust,  which,  though  invisible  in  diffuse 
daylight,  was  at  once  revealed  by  a  powerfully  condensed 
beam.  Two  tubes  were  placed  in  succession  in  the 
path  of  the  dust :  the  one  containing  fragments  of  glass 
wetted  with  concentrated  sulphuric  acid  ;  the  other, 
fragments  of  marble  wetted  with  a  strong  solution  of 
caustic  potash.  To  my  astonishment  it  passed  through 
both.  The  air  of  the  Royal  Institution,  sent  through 
these  tubes  at  a  rate  sufficiently  slow  to  dry  it  and  to  re- 
move its  carbonic  acid,  carried  into  the  experimental 
tube  a  considerable  amount  of  mechanically-suspended 
matter,  which  was  illuminated  when  the  beam  passed 


(*O  235 

through  the  tube.  The  effect  was  substantially  the 
same  when  the  air  was  permitted  to  bubble  through  the 
liquid  acid  and  through  the  solution  of  potash. 

Thus,  on  the  5th  of  October,  1868,  successive  charges 
of  air  were  admitted  through  the  potash  and  sulphuric 
acid  into  the  exhausted  experimental  tube.  Prior  to  the 
admission  of  the  air  the  tube  was  optically  empty ;  it  con- 
tained nothing  competent  to  scatter  the  light.  After 
the  air  had  entered  the  tube,  the  conical  track  of  the 
electric  beam  was  in  all  cases  clearly  revealed.  This, 
indeed,  was  a  daily  observation  at  the  time  to  which  I 
now  refer. 

I  tried  to  intercept  this  floating  matter  in  various 
ways  ;  and  on  the  day  just  mentioned,  prior  to  sending 
the  air  through  the  drying  apparatus,  I  carefully  per- 
mitted it  to  pass  over  the  tip  of  a  spirit-lamp  flame. 
The  floating  matter  no  longer  appeared,  having  been 
burnt  up  by  the  flame.  It  was,  therefore,  organic  matter. 
When  the  air  was  sent  too  rapidly  through  the  flame,  a 
fine  blue  cloud  was  found  in  the  experimental  tube. 
This  was  the  smoke  of  the  organic  particles.  I  was  by 
no  means  prepared  for  this  result ;  for  I  had  thought, 
with  the  rest  of  the  world,  that  the  dust  of  our  air  was, 
in  great  part,  inorganic  and  non-combustible. 

Mr.  Valentin  had  the  kindness  to  procure  for  me  a 
small  gas-furnace,  containing  a  platinum  tube,  which 
could  be  heated  to  vivid  redness.  The  tube  also  con- 
tained a  roll  of  platinum  gauze,  which,  while  it  per- 
mitted the  air  to  pass  through  it,  insured  the  practical 
contact  of  the  dust  with  the  incandescent  metal.  The 
air  of  the  laboratory  was  permitted  to  enter  the  experi- 
mental tube,  sometimes  through  the  cold,  and  some- 
times through  the  heated  tube  of  platinum.  *  The  rapid- 


236  22 

ity  of  admission  was  also  varied.  In  the  first  column 
of  the  following  table  the  quantity  of  air  operated  on  is 
expressed  by  the  number  of  inches  which  the  mercury 
gauge  of  the  air-pump  sank  when  the  air  entered.  In 
the  second  column  the  condition  of  the  platinum  tube  is 
mentioned,  and  in  the  third  the  state  of  the  air  which 
entered  the  experimental  tube. 

Quantity  of  Air.         State  of  Platinum  Tube.        State  of  Experimental  Tube. 

15  inches  .  .  Cold     .  •  .  Full  of  particles. 

15      "  .  .  Red-hot  .  .  Optically  empty. 

15      "  .  .  Cold     .  .  .  Full  of  particles. 

15      "  .  .  Red-hot  .  .  Optically  empty. 

15      "  .  .  Cold     .  .  .  Full  of  particles. 

15      "  .  .  Red-hot  .  .  Optically  empty. 

The  phrase  "  optically  empty  "  shows  that  when  the 
conditions  *f  perfect  combustion  were  present,  the  float- 
ing matter  totally  disappeared.  It  was  wholly  burnt  up, 
leaving  not  9  trace  of  residue.  From  spectrum  analysis, 
however,  we  know  that  soda  floats  in  the  air  ;  these  or- 
ganic  dust  particles  are,  I  believe,  the  rafts  that  support 
it,  and  when  they  are  removed  it  sinks  and  vanishes. 

When  the  passage  of  the  air  was  so  rapid  as  to  ren- 
der imperfect  the  combustion  of  the  floating  matter,  in- 
stead of  optical  emptiness  a  fine  blue  cloud  made  its  ap- 
pearance in  the  experimental  tube.  The  following 
series  of  results  illustrate  this  point : 


Quantity. 

15  inches,  slow    . 

15     "    .  " 

15       "       quick  . 
15       «          "      . 

Platinum  Tube. 

Cold     .     .     . 

Red-hot    .     . 
u 

Intensely  hot 

Experimental  Tube. 

Full  of  particles. 
Optically  empty. 
A  blue  cloud. 
A  fine  blue  cloud. 

The  optical  character  of  these  clouds  was  totally  dif- 
ferent from  that  of  the  dust  which  produced  them.  At 
right  angles  to  the  illuminating  beam  they  discharged 


perfectly  polarized  light.  The  cloud  could  be  utterly 
quenched  by  a  transparent  Nicol's  prism,  and  the  tube 
containing  it  reduced  to  optical  emptiness. 

The  particles  floating  in  the  air  of  London  being  thus 
proved  to  be  organic,  I  sought  to  burn  them  up  at  the 
focus  of  a  concave  reflector.  One  of  the  powerfully 
convergent  mirrors  employed  in  my  experiments  on 
combustion  by  dark  rays  was  here  made  use  of,  but  I 
failed  in  the  attempt.  Doubtless  the  floating  particles 
are  in  part  transparent  to  radiant  heat,  and  are  so  far 
incombustible  by  such  heat.  Their  rapid  motion  through 
the  focus  also  aids  their  escape.  They  do  not  linger 
there  sufficiently  long  to  be  consumed.  A  flame  it  was 
evident  would  burn  them  up,  but  I  thought  the  presence 
of  the  flame  would  mask  its  own  action  among  the  par- 
ticles. 

In  a  cylindrical  beam,  which  powerfully  illuminated 
the  dust  of  the  laboratory,  was  placed  an  ignited  spirit- 
lamp.  Mingling  with  the  flame,  and  round  its  rim,  were 
seen  wreaths  of  darkness  resembling  an  intensely  black 
smoke.  On  lowering  the  flame  below  the  beam  the 
same  dark  masses  stormed  upwards.  They  were  at  times 
blacker  than  the  blackest  smoke  that  I  have  ever  seen 
issuing  from  the  funnel  of  a  steamer,  and  their  resem- 
blance to  smoke  was  so  perfect  as  to  lead  the  most  prac- 
ticed observer  to  conclude  that  the  apparently  pure 
flame  of  the  alcohol  lamp  required  but  a  beam  of  suffi- 
cient intensity  to  reveal  its  clouds  of  liberated  carbon. 

But  is  the  blackness  smoke  ?  The  question  presented 
itself  in  a  moment.  A  red-hot  poker  was  placed  under- 
neath the  beam,  and  from  it  the  black  wreaths  also 
ascended.  A  large  hydrogen  flame  was  next  employed, 
and  it  produced  those  whirling  masses  of  darkness  far 


23$  (  24  ) 

more  copiously  than  either  the  spirit-flame  or  poker. 
Smoke  was,  therefore,  out  of  the  question. 

What,  then,  was  the  blackness  ?  It  was  simply  that 
of  stellar  space  ;  that  is  to  say,  blackness  resulting  from 
the  absence  from  the  track  of  the  beam  of  all  matter 
competent  to  scatter  its  light.  When  the  flame  was 
placed  below  the  beam  the  floating  matter  was  destroyed 
in  situ  ;  and  the  air,  freed  from  this  matter,  rose  into  the 
beam,  jostled  aside  the  illuminated  particles  and  substi- 
tuted for  their  light  the  darkness  due  to  its  own  perfect 
transparency.  Nothing  could  more  forcibly  illustrate 
the  invisibility  of  the  agent  which  renders  all  things  vis- 
ible. The  beam  crossed,  unseen,  the  black  chasm  formed 
by  the  transparent  air,  while  at  both  sides  of  the  gap 
the  thick-strewn  particles  shone  out  like  a  luminous  solid 
under  the  powerful  illumination. 

But  here  a  difficulty  meets  us.  It  is  not  necessary  to 
burn  the  particles  to  produce  a  stream  of  darkness. 
Without  actual  combustion,  currents  may  be  generated 
which  shall  exclude  the  floating  matter,  and  therefore 
appear  dark  amid  the  surrounding  brightness.  I  noticed 
this  effect  first  on  placing  a  red-hot  copper  ball  below 
the  beam,  and  permitting  it  to  remain  there  until  its 
temperature  had  fallen  below  that  of  boiling  water. 
The  dark  currents,  though  much  enfeebled,  were  still 
produced.  They  may  also  be  produced  by  a  flask  filled 
with  hot  water. 

To  study  this  effect  a  platinum  wire  was  stretched 
across  the  beam,  the  two  ends  of  the  wire  being  con- 
nected with  the  two  poles  of  a  voltaic  battery.  To  reg- 
ulate the  strength  of  the  current  a  rheostat  was  placed 
in  the  circuit.  Beginning  with  a  feeble  current  the 
temperature  of  the  wire  was  gradually  augmented,  but 


(25)  239 

before  it  reached  the  heat  of  ignition,  a  flat  stream  of 
air  rose  from  it,  which  when  looked  at  edgeways  ap- 
peared darker  and  sharper  than  one  of  the  blackest 
lines  of  Fraunhofer  in  the  solar  spectrum.  Right  and 
left  of  this  dark  vertical  band  the  floating  matter  rose 
upwards,  bounding  definitely  the  non-luminous  stream 
of  air.  What  is  the  explanation  ?  Simply  this.  The 
hot  wire  rarefied  the  air  in  contact  with  it,  but  it  did  not 
equally  lighten  the  .floating  matter.  The  convection 
current  of  pure  air  therefore  passed  upwards  among  ihe 
particles,  dragging  them  after  it  right  and  left,  but  form- 
ing between  them  an  impassable  black  partition.  In 
this  way  we  render  an  account  of  the  dark  currents  pro- 
duced by  bodies  at  a  temperature  below  that  of  combus- 
tion. 

Oxygen,  hydrogen,  nitrogen,  carbonic  acid,  so  pre- 
pared as  to  exclude  all  floating  particles,  produce  the 
darkness  when  poured  or  blown  into  the  beam.  Coal- 
gas  does  the  same.  An  ordinary  glass  shade  placed  in 
the  air  with  its  mouth  downwards  permits  the  track  of 
the  beam  to  be  seen  crossing  it.  Let  coal-gas  or  hydro- 
gen enter  the  shade  by  a  tube  reaching  to  its  top,  the 
gas  gradually  fills  the  shade  from  the  top  downwards. 
As  soon  as  it  occupies  the  space  crossed  by  the  beam, 
the  luminous  track  is  instantly  abolished.  Lifting  the 
shade  so  as  to  bring  the  common  boundary  of  gas  and 
air  above  the  beam,  the  track  flashes  forth.  After  the 
shade  is  full,  if  it  be  inverted,  the  gas  passes  upwards 
like  a  black  smoke  among  the  illuminated  particles. 

The  air  of  our  London  rooms  is  loaded  with  this  or- 
ganic dust,  nor  is  the  country  air  free  from  its  pollution. 
However  ordinary  daylight  may  permit  it  to  disguise 
itself,  a  sufficiently  powerful  beam  causes  the  air  in 


240  2<> 

which  the  dust  is  suspended  to  appear  as  a  semi-solid 
rather  than  as  a  gas.  Nobody  could,  in  the  first  in- 
stance, without  repugnance  place  the  mouth  at  the 
illuminated  focus  of  the  electric  beam  and  inhale  the 
dirt  revealed  there.  Nor  is  the  disgust  abolished  by  the 
reflection  that,  although  we  do  not  see  the  nastiness,  we 
are  churning  it  in  our  lungs  every  hour  and  minute  of 
our  lives.  There  is  no  respite  to  this  contact  with  dirt ; 
and  the  wonder  is,  not  that  we  should  from  time  to  time 
suffer  from  its  presence,  but  that  so  small  a  portion  of 
it  would  appear  to  be  deadly  to  man. 

And  what  is  this  portion  ?  It  was  some  time  ago  the 
current  belief  that  epidemic  diseases  generally  were  pro- 
pagated by  a  kind  of  malaria,  which  consisted  of  or- 
ganic matter  in  a  state  of  motor-decay  ;  that  when  such 
matter  was  taken  into  the  body  through  the  lungs  or 
skin,  it  had  the  power  of  spreading  there  the  destroying 
process  which  had  attacked  itself.  Such  a  spreading 
power  was  visibly  exerted  in  the  case  of  yeast  A  little 
leaven  was  seen  to  leaven  the  whole  lump,  a  mere  speck 
of  matter  in  this  supposed  state  of  decomposition  being 
apparently  competent  to  propagate  indefinitely  its  own 
decay.  Why  should  not  a  bit  of  rotten  malaria  work  in 
a  similar  manner  within  the  human  frame?  In  1836  a 
very  wonderful  reply  was  given  to  this  question.  In 
that  year  Cagniard  de  la  Tour  discovered  the  yeast  plant, 
a  living  organism,  which,  when  placed  in  a  proper 
medium,  feeds,  grows,  and  reproduces  itself,  and  in  this 
way  carries  on  the  process  which  we  name  fermentation. 
Fermentation  was  thus  proved  to  be  a  product  of  life 
instead  of  a  process  of  decay. 

Schwann,  of  Berlin,  discovered  the  yeast  plant  inde- 
pendently, and  in  February,  1837,  he  also  announced  the 


(  2*1  )  241 

important  result,  that  when  a  decoction  of  meat  is  effect- 
ually screened  from  ordinary  air,  and  supplied  solely 
with  air  which  has  been  raised  to  a  high  temperature, 
putrefaction  never  sets  in.  Putrefaction,  therefore,  he 
affirmed  to  be  caused  by  something  derived  from  the  air, 
which  something  could  be  destroyed  by  a  sufficiently 
high  temperature.  The  experiments  of  Schwann  were 
repeated  and  confirmed  by  Helmholtz  and  Ure.  But 
as  regards  fermentation,  the  minds  of  chemists,  influ- 
enced probably  by  the  great  authority  of  Gay-Lussac, 
who  ascribed  putrefaction  to  the  action  of  oxygen,  fell 
back  upon  the  old  notion  of  matter  in  a  state  of  decay. 
It  was  not  the  living  yeast  plant,  but  the  dead  or  dying 
parts  of  it,  which,  assailed  by  oxygen,  produced  the  fer- 
mentation. This  notion  was  finally  exploded  by  Pasteur. 
He  proved  that  the  so-called  "  ferments"  are  not  such ; 
that  the  true  ferments  are  organized  beings  which  find 
in  the  reputed  ferments  their  necessary  food. 

Side  by  side  with  these  researches  and  discoveries,  and 
fortified  by  them  and  others,  has  run  the  germ  theory  of 
epidemic  disease.  The  notion  was  expressed  by  Kircher, 
and  favored  by  Linnaeus,  that  epidemic  diseases  are  due 
to  germs  which  float  in  the  atmosphere,  enter  the  body, 
and  produce  disturbance  by  the  development  within  the 
body  of  parasitic  life.  While  it  was  still  struggling 
against  great  odds,  this  theory  found  an  expounder  and 
a  defender  in  the  President  of  this  Institution.  At  a 
time  when  most  of  his  medical  brethren  considered 
it  a  wild  dream,  Sir  Henry  Holland  contended  that 
some  form  of  the  germ  theory  was  probably  true.  The 
strength  of  this  theory  consists  in  the  perfect  parallelism 
of  the  phenomena  of  contagious  disease  with  those  of 
life.  As  a  planted  acorn  gives  birth  to  an  oak  compe- 


242  (  2g  ) 

tent  to  produce  a  whole  crop  of  acorns,  each  gifted  with 
the  power  of  reproducing  its  parent  tree,  and  as  thus 
from  a  single  seedling  a  whole  forest  may  spring,  so 
these  epidemic  diseases  literally  plant  their  seeds,  grow, 
and  shake  abroad  new  germs,  which,  meeting  in  the 
human  body  their  proper  food  and  temperature,  finally 
take  possession  of  whole  populations.  Thus  Asiatic 
cholera,  beginning  in  a  small  way  in  the  Delta  of  the 
Ganges,  contrived  in  seventeen  years  to  spread  itself 
over  nearly  the  whole  habitable  world.  The  develop- 
ment from  an  infinitesimal  speck  of  the  virus  of  small- 
pox of  a  crop  of  pustules,  each  charged  with  the  orig- 
inal poison,  is  another  illustration.  The  reappearance 
of  the  scourge,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Dreadnought  at 
Greenwich,  reported  on  so  ably  by  Dr.  Budd  and  Mr. 
Busk,  receives  a  satisfactory  explanation  from  the  theory 
which  ascribes  it  to  the  lingering  of  germs  about  the  in- 
fected place. 

Surgeons  have  long  known  the  danger  of  permitting 
air  to  enter  an  open  abscess.  To  prevent  its  entrance 
they  employ  a  tube  called  a  cannula,  to  which  is  at- 
tached a  sharp  steel  point  called  a  trocar.  They  punc- 
ture with  the  steel  point,  and  by  gentle  pressure  they 
force  the  pus  through  the  cannula.  It  is  necessary  to 
be  very  careful  in  cleansing  the  instrument  ;  and  it  is 
difficult  to  see  how  it  can  be  cleansed  by  ordinary 
methods  in  air  loaded  with  organic  impurities,  as  we 
have  proved  our  air  to  be.  The  instrument  ought,  in 
fact,  to  be  made  as  hot  as  its  temper  will  bear.  But 
this  is  not  done,  and  hence,  notwithstanding  all  the  sur- 
geon's care,  inflammation  often  sets  in  after  the  first  op- 
eration, rendering  necessary  a  second  and  a  third. 
Rapid  putrefaction  is  found  to  accompany  this  new  in- 


1  *9)  243 

flammation.  The  pus,  moreover,  which  was  sweet  at 
first,  and  showed  no  trace  of  animal  life,  is  now  fetid, 
and  swarming  with  active  little  organisms  called  vibrios. 
Prof.  Lister,  from  whose  recent  lecture  this  fact  is  de- 
rived, contends,  with  every  show  of  reason,  that  this 
rapid  putrefaction  and  this  astounding  development  of 
animal  life  are  due  to  the  entry  of  germs  into  the  abscess 
during  the  first  operation,  and  their  subsequent  nurture 
and  development  under  favorable  conditions  of  food  and 
temperature.  The  celebrated  physiologist  and  physicist, 
Helmholtz,  is  attacked  annually  by  hay-fever.  From 
the  20th  of  May  to  the  end  of  June  he  suffers  from  a 
catarrh  of  the  upper  air-passages  ;  and  he  has  found 
during  this  period,  and  at  no  other,  that  his  nasal  secre- 
tions are  peopled  by  these  vibrios.  They  appear  to 
nestle  by  preference  in  the  cavities  and  recesses  of  the 
nose,  for  a  strong  sneeze  is  necessary  to  dislodge  them. 
These  statements  sound  uncomfortable ;  but  by  dis- 
closing our  enemy  they  enable  us  to  fight  him.  When 
he  clearly  eyes  his  quarry  the  eagle's  strength  is  doubled, 
and  his  swoop  is  rendered  sure.  If  the  germ  theory  be 
proved  true,  it  will  give  a  definiteness  to  our  efforts  to 
stamp  out  disease  which  they  could  not  previously  pos- 
sess. And  it  is  only  by  definite  effort  under  its  guid- 
ance that  its  truth  or  falsehood  can  be  established.  It 
is  difficult  for  an  outsider  like  myself  to  read  without 
sympathetic  emotion  such  papers  as  those  of  Dr.  Budd, 
of  Bristol,  on  cholera,  scarlet-fever,  and  small-pox.  He 
is  a  man  of  strong  imagination,  and  may  occasionally 
take  a  flight  beyond  his  facts ;  but  without  this  dynamic 
heat  of  heart,  the  stolid  inertia  of  the  free-born  Briton 
cannot  be  overcome.  And  as  long  as  the  heat  is  em- 
ployed to  warm  up  the  truth  without  singeing  it  over- 


*4  30 

much ;  as  long  as  this  enthusiasm  can  overmatch  its 
mistakes  by  unequivocal  examples  of  success,  so  long 
am  I  disposed  to  give  it  a  fair  field  to  work  in,  and  to 
wish  it  God  speed. 

But  let  us  return  to  our  dust.  It  is  needless  to  re- 
mark that  it  cannot  be  blown  away  by  an  ordinary  bel- 
lows ;  or,  more  correctly,  the  place  of  the  particles 
blown  away  is  in  this  case  supplied  by  others  ejected 
from  the  bellows,  so  that  the  track  of  the  beam  remains 
unimpaired.  But  if  the  nozzle  of  a  good  bellows  be 
filled  with  cotton  wool  not  too  tightly  packed,  the  air 
urged  through  the  wool  is  filtered  of  its  floating  matter, 
and  it  then  forms  a  clean  band  of  darkness  in  the  illu- 
minated dust.  This  was  the  filter  used  by  Schroeder  in 
his  experiments  on  spontaneous  generation,  and  turned 
subsequently  to  account  in  the  excellent  researches  of 
Pasteur.  Since  1868  I  have  constantly  employed  it 
myself. 

But  by  far  the  most  interesting  and  important  illus- 
tration of  this  filtering  process  is  furnished  by  the  hu- 
man breath.  I  fill  my  lungs  with  ordinary  air  and 
breathe  through  a  glass  tube  across  the  electric  beam. 
The  condensation  of  the  aqueous  vapor  of  the  breath  is 
shown  by  the  formation  of  a  luminous  white  cloud  of 
delicate  texture.  It  is  necessary  to  abolish  this  cloud, 
and  this  may  be  done  by  drying  the  breath  previous  to 
its  entering  into  the  beam  ;  or  still  more  simply,  by 
warming  the  glass  tube.  When  this  is  done  the  lumi- 
nous track  of  the  beam  is  for  a  time  uninterrupted.  The 
breath  impresses  upon  the  floating  matter  a  transverse  mo- 
tion, but  the  dust  from  the  lungs  makes  good  the  particles 
displaced.  But  after  some  time  an  obscure  disc  appears 
upon  the  beam,  the  darkness  of  which  increases,  until 


3i)  245 

>        * 

finally,  towards  the  end  of  the  expiration,  the  beam  is, 
as  it  were,  pierced  by  an  intensely  black  hole,  in  which 
no  particles  whatever  can  be  discerned.  The  air,  in 
fact,  has  so  lodged  its  dirt  within  the  lungs  as  to  render 
the  last  portions  of  the  expired  breath  absolutely  free 
from  suspended  matter.  This  experiment  may  be  re- 
peated any  number  of  times  with  the  same  result.  It 
renders  the  distribution  of  the  dirt  within  the  lungs  as 
manifest  as  if  the  chest  were  transparent. 

I  now  empty  my  lungs  as  perfectly  as  possible,  and 
placing  a  handful  of  cotton  wool  against  my  mouth  and 
nostrils,  inhale  through  it.  There  is  no  difficulty  in 
thus  filling  the  lungs  with  air.  On  expiring  this  air 
through  the  glass  tube,  its  freedom  from  floating  matter 
is  at  once  manifest.  From  the  very  beginning  of  the 
act  of  expiration  the  beam  is  pierced  by  a  black  aper- 
ture. The  first  puff  from  the  lungs  abolishes  the  illumi- 
nated dust  and  puts  a  patch  of  darkness  in  its  place, 
and  the  darkness  continues  throughout  the  entire  course 
of  the  expiration.  When  the  tube  is  placed  below  the 
beam  and  moved  to  and  fro,  the  same  smoke-like  ap- 
pearance as  that  obtained  with  a  flame  is  observed.  In 
short,  the  cotton  wool,  when  used  in  sufficient  quantity, 
completely  intercepts  the  floating  matter  on  its  way  to 
the  lungs. 

And  here  we  have  revealed  to  us  the  true  philosophy 
of  a  practice  followed  by  medical  men,  more  from  in- 
stinct than  from  actual  knowledge.  In  a  contagious  at- 
mosphere the  physician  places  a  handkerchief  to  his 
mouth  and  inhales  through  it.  In  doing  so  he  uncon- 
ciously  holds  back  the  dirt  and  germs  of  the  air.  If  the 
poison  were  a  gas  it  would  not  be  thus  intercepted. 
On  showing  this  experiment  with  the  cotton  wool  to  Dr, 


24.6  (  32  ) 

Bence  Jones,  he  immediately  repeated  it  with  a  silk 
handkerchief.  The  result  was  substantially  the  same, 
though,  as  might  be  expected,  the  wool  is  by  far  the 
surest  filter.  The  application  of  these  experiments  is 
obvious.  If  a  physician  wishes  to  hold  back  from  the 
lungs  of  his  patient,  or  from  his  own,  the  germs  by 
which  contagious  disease  is  said  to  be  propagated,  he 
will  employ  a  cotton  wool  respirator.  After  the  revela- 
tions of  this  evening,  such  respirators  must,  I  think, 
come  into  general  use  as  a  defence  against  contagion. 
In  the  crowded  dwellings  of  the  London  poor,  where 
the  isolation  of  the  sick  is  difficult,  if  not  impossible, 
the  noxious  air  around  the  patient  may,  by  this  simple 
means,  be  restored  to  practical  purity.  Thus  filtered, 
attendants  may  breathe  the  air  unharmed.  In  all  prob- 
ability the  protection  of  the  lungs  will  be  protec- 
tion of  the  entire  system.  For  it  is  exceedingly 
probable  that  the  germs  which  lodge  in  the  air- 
passages,  and  which,  at  their  leisure,  can  work  their 
way  across  the  mucous  membrane,  are  those  which  sow 
in  the  body  epidemic  disease.  If  this  be  so,  then 
disease  can  certainly  be  warded  off  by  filters  of  cotton 
wool.  I  should  be  most  willing  to  test  their  efficacy  in 
my  own  person.  And  time  will  decide  whether  in  lung 
diseases  also  the  woolen  respirator  cannot  abate  irrita- 
tion, if  not  arrest  decay.  By  its  means,  so  far  as  the 
germs  are  concerned,  the  air  of  the  highest  Alps  may 
be  brought  into  the  chamber  of  the  invalid. 


III. 

Scientific  Use  of  the  Imagination. 

I  carried  with  me  to  the  Alps  this  year  the  heavy  bur- 
den of  this  evening's  work.  In  the  way  of  new  investi- 
gation I  had  nothing  complete  enough  to  be  brought 
before  you  ;  so  all  that  remained  to  me  was  to  fall  back 
upon  such  residues  as  I  could  find  in  the  depths  of  con- 
sciousness, and  out  of  them  to  spin  the  fiber  and  weave 
the  web  of  this  discourse.  Save  from  memory  I  had  no 
direct  aid  upon  the  mountains  ;  but  to  spur  up  the  emo- 
tions, on  which  so  much  depends,  as  well  as  to  nourish 
indirectly  the  intellect  and  will,  I  took  with  me  two 
volumes  of  poetry,  Goethe's  "  Farbenlehre,"  and  the  work 
on  "  Logic  "  recently  published  by  Mr.  Alexander  Bain. 
The  spur,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  was  no  match  for  the  integu- 
ment of  dullness  it  had  to  pierce. 

In  Goethe,  so  glorious  otherwise,  I  chiefly  noticed  the 
self-inflicted  hurts  of  genius,  as  it  broke  itself  in  vain 
against  the  philosophy  of  Newton.  For  a  time  Mr. 
Bain  became  my  principal  companion.  I  found  him 
learned  and  practical,  shining  generally  with  a  dry  light, 
but  exhibiting  at  times  a  flush  of  emotional  strength, 
which  proved  that  even  logicians  share  the  common  fire 
of  humanity.  He  interested  me  most  when  he  became 
the  mirror  of  my  own  condition.  Neither  intellectually 
nor  socially  is  it  good  for  man  to  be  alone,  and  the 
griefs  of  thought  are  more  patiently  borne  when  we  find 
that  they  have  been  experienced  by  another,  From  cer- 


248  (  34  ) 

tain  passages  in  his  book  I  could  infer  that  Mr.  Bain 
was  no  stranger  to  such  sorrows.  Take  this  passage  as 
an  illustration.  Speaking  of  the  ebb  of  intellectual 
force  which  we  all  from  time  to  time  experience,  Mr 
Bain  says:  "The  uncertainty  where  to  look  for  the  next 
opening  of  discovery  brings  the  pain  of  conflict  and  the 
debility  of  indecision."  These  words  have  in  them  the 
true  ring  of  personal  experience. 

The  action  of  the  investigator  is  periodic.  He  grap- 
ples with  a  subject  of  inquiry,  wrestles  with  it,  over- 
comes it,  exhausts,  it  may  be,  both  himself  and  it  for 
the  time  being.  He  breathes  a  space,  and  then  renews 
the  struggle  in  another  field.  Now  this  period  of  halt- 
ing between  two  investigations  is  not  always  one  of  pure 
repose.  It  is  often  a  period  of  doubt  and  discomfort, 
of  gloom  and  ennui.  "  The  uncertainty  where  to  look 
for  the  next  opening  of  discovery  brings  the  pain  of  con- 
flict and  the  debility  of  indecision."  Such  was  my  pre- 
cise condition  in  the  Alps  this  year ;  in  a  score  of  words 
Mr.  Bain  has  here  sketched  my  mental  diagnosis  ;  and 
it  was  under  these  evil  circumstances  that  I  had  to 
equip  myself  for  the  hour  and  the  ordeal  that  are  now 
come. 

Gladly,  however,  as  I  should  have  seen  this  duty  in 
other  hands,  I  could  by  no  means  shrink  from  it.  Dis- 
loyalty would  have  been  worse  than  failure.  In  some 
fashion  or  other — feebly  or  strongly,  meanly  or  manfully, 
on  the  higher  levels  of  thought,  or  on  the  flats  of  com- 
monplace— the  task  had  to  be  accomplished.  I  looked 
in  various  directions  for  help  and  furtherance ;  but  with- 
out me  for  a  time  I  saw  only  "  antres  vast,"  and  within 
me  "  deserts  idle."  My  case  resembled  that  of  a  sick 
doctor  who  had  forgotten  his  art,  and  sorely  needed  the 


(  35  )  249 

prescription  of  a  friend.  Mr.  Bain  wrote  one  for  me. 
He  said  :  "  Your  present  knowledge  must  forge  the  links 
of  connection  between  what  has  been  already  achieved 
and  what  is  now  required." 

In  these  words  he  admonished  me  to  review  the  past 
and  recover  from  it  the  broken  ends  of  former  investi- 
gations. I  tried  to  do  so.  Previous  to  going  to  Switz- 
erland I  had  been  thinking  much  of  light  and  heat,  of 
magnetism  and  electricity,  of  organic  germs,  atoms, 
molecules,  spontaneous  generation,  comets  and  skies. 
With  one  or  another  of  these  I  now  sought  to  re-form 
an  alliance,  and  finally  succeeded  in  establishing  a  kind 
of  cohesion  between  thought  and  light.  The  wish  grew 
within  me  to  trace,  and  to  enable  you  to  trace,  some  of 
the  more  occult  operations  of  this  agent.  I  wished,  if 
possible,  to  take  you  behind  the  drop-scene  of  the  senses, 
and  to  show  you  the  hidden  mechanism  of  optical 
action.  For  I  take  it  to  be  well  worth  the  while  of  the 
scientific  teacher  to  take  some  pains,  and  even  great 
pains,  to  make  those  whom  he  addresses  co-partners  of 
his  thoughts.  To  clear  his  own  mind  in  the  first  place 
from  all  haze  and  vagueness,  and  then  to  project  into 
language  which  shall  leave  no  mistake  as  to  his  mean- 
ing— which  shall  leave  even  his  errors  naked — the  defi- 
nite ideas  he  has  shaped. 

A  great  deal  is,  I  think,  possible  to  scientific  exposi- 
tion conducted  in  this  way.  It  is  possible,  I  believe, 
even  before  an  audience  like  the  present,  to  uncover  to 
some  extent  the  unseen  things  of  nature,  and  thus  to 
give,  not  only  to  professed  students,  but  to  others  with 
the  necessary  bias,  industry  and  capacity,  an  intelligent 
interest  in  the  operations  of  science.  Time  and  labor 
are  necessary  to  this  result,  but  science  is  the  gainer 
from  the  public  sympathy  thus  created. 


25°  (36) 

How  then  are  those  hidden  things  to  be  revealed  ? 
How,  for  example,  are  we  to  lay  hold  of  the  physical 
basis  of  light,  since,  like  that  of  life  itself,  it  lies  entirely 
without  the  domain  of  the  senses  ?  Now,  philosophers 
may  be  right  in  affirming  that  we  cannot  transcend  ex- 
perience. But  we  can,  at  all  events,  carry  it  a  long  way 
from  its  origin.  We  can  also  magnify,  diminish,  qualify, 
and  combine  experiences,  so  as  to  render  them  fit  for 
purposes  entirely  new.  We  are  gifted  with  the  power  of 
imagination,  combining  what  the  Germans  called  An- 
schauiingsgabe  and  Einbildungskraft,  and  by  this  power 
we  can  lighten  the  darkness  which  surrounds  the  world 
of  the  senses. 

There  are  tories  even  in  science  who  regard  imagina- 
tion as  a  faculty  to  be  feared  and  avoided  rather  than 
employed.  They  had  observed  its  action  in  weak  ves- 
sels and  were  unduly  impressed  by  its  disasters.  But 
they  might  with  equal  justice  point  to  exploded  boilers 
as  an  argument  against  the  use  of  steam.  Bounded  and 
conditioned  by  cooperant  reason,  imagination  becomes 
the  mightiest  instrument  of  the  physical  discoverer. 
Newton's  passage  from  a  falling  apple  to  a  falling  moon 
was  a  leap  of  the  imagination.  When  William  Thom- 
son tries  to  place  the  ultimate  particles  of  matter  be- 
tween his  compass  points,  and  to  apply  to  them  a  scale 
of  millimeters,  it  is  an  exercise  of  the  imagination. 
And  in  much  that  has  been  recently  said  about  proto- 
plasm and  life,  we  have  the  outgoings  of  the  imagination 
guided  and  controlled  by  the  known  analogies  of  science. 
In  fact,  without  this  power  our  knowledge  of  nature 
would  be  a  mere  tabulation  of  coexistences  and  sequences. 
We  should  still  believe  in  the  succession  of  day  and 
night,  of  summer  and  winter ;  but  the  soul  of  force 


(37)  251 

would  be  dislodged  from  our  universe  j  casual  relations 
would  disappear,  and  with  them  that  science  which  is 
now  binding  the  parts  of  nature  to  an  organic  whole. 

I  should  like  to  illustrate  by  a  few  simple  instances 
the  use  that  scientific  men  have  already  made  of  this 
power  of  imagination,  and  to  indicate  afterwards  some 
of  the  further  uses  that  they  are  likely  to  make  of  it. 
Let  us  begin  with  the  rudimentary  experiences.  Observe 
the  falling  of  heavy  rain  drops  into  a  tranquil  pond. 
Each  drop  as  it  strikes  the  water  becomes  a  center  of 
disturbance,  from  which  a  series  of  ring  ripples  expands 
outwards.  Gravity  and  inertia  are  the  agents  by  which 
this  wave  motion  is  produced,  and  a  rough  experiment 
will  suffice  to  show  that  the  rate  of  propagation  does 
not  amount  to  a  foot  a  second. 

A  series  of  slight  mechanical  shocks  is  experienced 
by  a  body  plunged  in  the  water  as  the  wavelets  reach  it 
in  succession.  But  a  finer  motion  is  at  the  same  time 
set  up  and  propagated.  If  the  head  and  ears  be  im- 
mersed in  the  water,  as  in  an  experiment  of  Franklin's, 
the  shock  of  the  drop  is  communicated  to  the  auditory 
nerve — the  tick  of  the  drop  is  heard.  Now  this 
sonorous  impulse  is  propagated,  not  at  the  rate  of  a 
foot  a  second,  but  at  the  rate  of  4,700  feet  a 
second.  In  this  case  it  is  not  the  gravity  but  the 
elasticity  of  the  water  that  is  the  urging  force.  Every 
liquid  particle  pushed  against  its  neighbor  delivers  up 
its  motion  with  extreme  rapidity,  and  the  pulse  is  propa- 
gated as  a  thrill.  The  incompressibility  of  water,  as 
illustrated  by  the  famous  Florentine  experiment,  is  a 
measure  of  its  elasticity,  and  to  the  possession  of  this 
property  in  so  high  a  degree  the  rapid  transmission  of 
a  sound-pulse  through  water  is  to  be  ascribed. 


iV  (38) 

But  water,  as  you  know,  is  not  necessary  to  the  con- 
duction of  sound  ;  air  is  its  most  common  vehicle.  And 
you  know  that  when  the  air  possesses  the  particular 
density  and  elasticity  corresponding  to  the  temperature 
of  freezing  water,  the  velocity  of  sound  in  it  is  1,090  feet 
a  second.  It  is  almost  exactly  one-fourth  of  the  veloc- 
ity in  water  ;  the  reason  being  that  though  the  greater 
weight  of  the  water  tends  to  diminish  the  velocity,  the 
enormous  molecular  elasticity  of  the  liquid  far  more 
than  atones  for  the  disadvantage  due  to  weight.  By 
various  contrivances  we  can  compel  the  vibrations  of 
the  air  to  declare  themselves  ;  we  know  the  length  and 
frequency  of  sonorous  waves,  and  we  have  also  obtained 
great  mastery  over  the  various  methods  by  which  the 
air  is  thrown  into  vibration.  We  know  the  phenomena 
and  laws  of  vibrating  rods,  of  organ  pipes,  strings, 
membranes,  plates,  and  bells.  We  can  abolish  one 
sound  by  another.  We  know  the  physical  meaning  of 
music  and  noise,  of  harmony  and  discord.  In  short,  as 
regards  sound  we  have  a  very  clear  notion  of  the  exter- 
nal physical  processes  which  correspond  to  our  sensa- 
tions. 

In  these  phenomena  of  sound  we  travel  a  very  little 
way  from  downright  sensible  experience.  Still  the  im- 
agination is  to  some  extent  exercised.  The  bodily  eye, 
for  example,  cannot  see  the  condensations  and  rarefac- 
tions of  the  waves  of  sound.  We  construct  them  in 
thought,  and  we  believe  as  firmly  in  their  existence  as 
in  that  of  the  air  itself.  But  now  our  experience  has  to 
be  carried  into  a  new  region,  where  a  new  use  is  to  be 
made  of  it. 

Having  mastered  the  cause  and  mechanism  of 
sound,  we  desire  to  know  the  cause  and  mechanism 


(39)  253 

of  light.  We  wish  to  extend  our  inquiries  from  the  au- 
ditory nerve  to  the  optic  nerve.  Now  there  is  in  the 
human  intellect  a  power  of  expansion — I  might  almost 
call  it  a  power  of  creation — which  is  brought  into  play 
by  the  simple  brooding  upon  facts.  The  legend  of  the 
Spirit  brooding  over  chaos  may  have  originated  in  a 
knowledge  of  this  power.  In  the  case  now  before  us  it 
has  manifested  itself  by  transplanting  into  space,  for 
the  purposes  of  light,  an  adequately  modified  form  of 
the  mechanism  of  sound.  We  know  intimately  whereon 
the  velocity  of  sound  depends.  When  we  lessen  the 
density  of  a  medium  and  preserve  its  elasticity  con- 
stant, we  augment  the  velocity.  When  we  high  ten  the 
elasticity  and  keep  the  density  constant,  we  also  aug- 
ment the  velocity.  A  small  density,  therefore,  and 
a  great  elasticity  are  the  two  things  necessary  to  rapid 
propagation. 

Now  light  is  known  to  move  with  the  astounding 
velocity  of  185,000  miles  a  second.  How  is  such  a 
velocity  to  be  obtained  ?  By  boldly  diffusing  in  space 
a  medium  of  the  requisite  tenuity  and  elasticity.  Let 
us  make  such  a  medium  our  starting  point,  endowing  it 
with  one  or  two  other  necessary  qualities  ;  let  us  handle 
it  in  accordance  with  strict  mechanical  laws  ;  give  to 
every  step  of  your  deduction  the  surety  of  the  syllogism  ; 
carry  it  thus  forth  from  the  world  of  imagination  to  the 
world  of  sense,  and  see  whether  the  final  outcrop  of  the 
deduction  be  not  the  very  phenomena  of  light  which 
ordinary  knowledge  and  skilled  experiment  reveal.  If 
in  all  the  multiplied  varieties  of  these  phenomena,  in- 
cluding those  of  the  most  remote  and  entangled  descrip- 
tion, this  fundamental  conception  always  brings  us  face 
to  face  with  the  truth  ;  if  no  contradiction  to  our  deduc- 


254  (  40  ) 

tions  from  it  be  found  in  external  nature  j  if,  moreover, 
it  has  actually  forced  upon  our  attention  phenomena 
which  no  eye  had  previously  seen,  and  which  no  mind 
had  previously  imagined  ;  if  by  it  we  are  gifted  with  a 
power  of  prescience  which  has  never  failed  when 
brought  to  an  experimental  test ;  such  a  conception, 
which  never  disappoints  us,  but  always  lands  us  on  the 
solid  shores  of  fact,  must,  we  think,  be  something  more 
than  a  mere  figment  of  the  scientific  fancy.  In  forming 
it  that  composite  and  creative  unity  in  which  reason  and 
imagination  are  together  blent,  has,  we  believe,  led  us 
into  a  world  not  less  real  than  that  of  the  senses,  and 
of  which  the  world  of  sense  itself  is  the  suggestion  and 
justification. 

Far  be  it  from  me,  however,  to  wish  to  fix  you  immov- 
ably in  this  or  in  any  other  theoretic  conception.  With 
all  our  belief  of  it,  it  will  be  well  to  keep  the  theory 
plastic  and  capable  of  change.  You  may,  moreover, 
urge  that  although  the  phenomena  occur  as  if  the  me- 
dium existed,  the  absolute  demonstration  of  its  exist- 
ence is  still  wanting.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  deny  to  this 
reasoning  such  validity  as  it  may  fairly  claim.  Let  us 
endeavor  by  means  of  analogy  to  form  a  fair  estimate 
of  its  force. 

You  believe  that  in  society  you  are  surrounded  by 
reasonable  beings  like  yourself.  You  are,  perhaps,  as 
firmly  convinced  of  this  as  of  anything.  What  is  your 
warrant  for  this  conviction  ?  Simply  and  solely  this,  your 
fellow-creatures  behave  as  if  they  were  reasonable  ;  the 
hypothesis,  for  it  is  nothing  more,  accounts  for  the  facts. 
To  take  an  eminent  example,  you  believe  that  our  pres- 
ident is  a  reasonable  being.  Why  ?  There  is  no  known 
method  of  superposition  by  which  any  one  of  us  can 


(4i)'  255 

apply  himself  intellectually  to  another  so  as  to  demon- 
strate coincidence  as  regards  the  possession  of  reason. 
If,  therefore,  you  hold  our  president  to  be  reasonable, 
it  is  because  he  behaves  as  if  he  were  reasonable.  As 
in  the  case  of  the  ether,  beyond  the  "as  if"  you  cannot 
go.  Nay,  I  should  not  wonder  if  a  close  comparison  of 
the  data  on  which  both  inferences  rest  caused  many  re- 
spectable persons  to  conclude  that  the  ether  had  the 
best  of  it. 

This  universal  medium,  this  light-ether  as  it  is  called, 
is  a  vehicle,  not  an  origin  of  wave  motion.  It  receives 
and  transmits,  but  it  does  not  create.  Whence  does  it 
derive  the  motions  it  conveys  ?  For  the  most  part  from 
luminous  bodies.  By  this  motion  of  a  luminous  body  I 
do  not  mean  its  sensible  motion,  such  as  the  flicker  of  a 
candle,  or  the  shooting  out  of  red  prominences  from  the 
limb  of  the  sun.  I  mean  an  intestine  motion  of  the 
atoms  or  molecules  of  the  luminous  body.  But  here  a 
certain  reserve  is  necessary.  Many  chemists  of  the 
present  day  refuse  to  speak  of  atoms  and  molecules  as 
real  things.  Their  caution  leads  them  to  stop  short  of 
the  clear,  sharp,  mechanically  intelligible  atomic  theory 
enunciated  by  Dalton,  or  any  form  of  that  theory,  and 
to  make  the  doctrine  of  multiple  proportions  their  intel- 
lectual bourne.  I  respect  the  caution,  though  I  think  it 
is  here  misplaced.  The  chemists  who  recoil  from  these 
notions  of  atoms  and  molecules  accept  without  hesita- 
tion the  undulatory  theory  of  light.  Like  you  and  me 
they  one  and  all  believe  in  an  ether  and  its  light-pro- 
ducing waves.  Let  us  consider  what  this  belief  in- 
volves. 

Bring  your  imaginations  once  more  into  play  and 
figure  a  series  of  sound  waves  passing  through  air. 


256  (  42  ) 

Follow  them  up  to  their  origin,  and  what  do  you  there 
find  ?  A  definite,  tangible,  vibrating  body.  It  may  be 
the  vocal  chords  of  a  human  being,  it  may  be  an  organ 
pipe,  or  it  may  be  a  stretched  string.  Follow  in  the 
same  manner  a  train  of  ether  waves  to  their  source,  re- 
membering at  the  same  time  that  your  ether  is  matter, 
dense,  elastic,  and  capable  of  motions  subject  to  and 
determined  by  mechanical  laws.  What  then  do  you  ex- 
pect to  find  as  the  source  of  a  series  of  ether  waves  ? 
Ask  your  imagination  if  it  will  accept  a  vibrating  multi- 
ple proportion — a  numerical  ratio  in  a  state  of  oscilla- 
tion ?  I  do  not  think  it  will.  You  cannot  crown  the 
edifice  by  this  abstraction.  The  scientific  imagination, 
which  is  here  authoritative,  demands  as  the  origin  and 
cause  of  a  series  of  ether  waves  a  particle  of  vibrating 
matter  quite  as  definite,  though  it  may  be  excessively 
minute,  as  that  which  gives  origin  to  a  musical  sound. 
Such  a  particle  we  name  an  atom  or  a  molecule.  I 
think  the  imagination  when  focused  so  as  to  give  defini- 
tion without  penumbral  haze  is  sure  to  realize  this  im- 
age at  last. 

To  preserve  thought  continuous  throughout  this  dis- 
course, to  prevent  either  lack  of  knowledge  or  failure  of 
memory  from  producing  any  rent  in  our  picture,  I  here 
propose  to  run  rapidly  over  a  bit  of  ground  which  is 
probably  familiar  to  most  of  you,  but  which  I  am  anx- 
ious to  make  familiar  to  you  all. 

The  waves  generated  in  the  ether  by  the  swinging 
atoms  of  luminous  bodies  are  of  different  lengths  and 
amplitudes.  The  amplitude  is  the  width  of  swing  of 
the  individual  particles  of  the  wave.  In  water  waves 
it  is  the  hight  of  the  crest  above  the  trough,  while  the 
length  of  the  wave  is  the  distance  between  two  con- 


(43) 

secutive  crests.  The  aggregate  of  waves  emitted  by  the 
sun  may  be  broadly  divided  into  two  classes,  the  one 
class  competent,  the  other  incompetent,  to  excite  vision. 

But  the  light-producing  waves  differ  markedly  among 
themselves  in  size,  form,  and  force.  The  length  of  the 
largest  of  these  waves  is  about  twice  that  of  the  small- 
est, but  the  amplitude  of  the  largest  is  probably  a  hun- 
dred times  that  of  the  smallest.  Now  the  force  or  energy 
of  the  wave,  which,  expressed  with  reference  to  sensa- 
tion, means  the  intensity  of  the  light,  is  proportional  to 
the  square  of  the  amplitude.  Hence  the  amplitude 
being  one  hundred-fold,  the  energy  of  the  largest  light- 
giving  waves  would  be  ten  thousand-fold  that  of  the 
smallest.  This  is  not  improbable.  I  use  these  figures, 
not  with  a  view  to  numerical  accuracy,  but  to  give  you 
definite  ideas  of  the  differences  that  probably  exist 
among  the  light-giving  waves.  And  if  we  take  the 
whole  range  of  solar  radiation  into  account — its  non- 
visual  as  well  as  its  visual  waves — I  think  it  probable 
that  the  force  or  energy  of  the  largest  wave  is  a  million 
times  that  of  the  smallest. 

Turned  into  their  equivalents  of  sensation,  the  differ- 
ent light  waves  produce  different  colors.  Red,  for  ex- 
ample, is  produced  by  the  largest  waves,  violet  by  the 
smallest,  while  green  is  produced  by  a  wave  of  interme- 
diate length  and  amplitude.  On  entering  from  air  into 
more  highly  refracting  substances,  such  as  glass  or  water 
or  the  sulphide  of  carbon,  all  the  waves  are  retarded, 
but  the  smallest  ones  most.  This  furnishes  a  means  of 
separating  the  different  classes  of  waves  from  each 
other — in  other  words,  of  analyzing  the  light.  Sent 
through  a  refracting  prism,  the  waves  of  the  sun  are 
turned  aside  in  different  degrees  from  their  direct  course, 


«5  (  44  ) 

the  red  least,  the  violet  most.  They  are  virtually  pulled 
asunder,  and  they  paint  upon  a  white  screen  placed  to 
receive  them  "the  solar  spectrum." 

Strictly  speaking,  the  spectrum  embraces  an  infinity 
of  colors,  but  the  limits  of  language  and  of  our  powers 
of  distinction  cause  it  to  be  divided  into  seven  segments : 
Red,  orange,  yellow,  green,  blue,  indigo,  violet.  These 
are  the  seven  primary  or  prismatic  colors.  Separately, 
or  mixed  in  various  proportions,  the  solar  waves  yield 
all  the  colors  observed  in  nature  and  employed  in  art. 
Collectively  they  give  us  the  impression  of  whiteness. 
Pure  unsifted  solar  light  is  white  ;  and  if  all  the  wave 
constituents  of  such  light  be  reduced  in  the  same  pro- 
portion, the  light,  though  diminished  in  intensity,  will 
still  be  white.  The  whiteness  of  Alpine  snow  with  the 
sun  shining  upon  it  is  barely  tolerable  to  the  eye.  The 
same  snow  under  an  overcast  firmament  is  still  white. 
Such  a  firmament  enfeebles  the  light  by  reflection,  and 
when  we  lift  ourselves  above  a  cloud-field — to  an  Alpine 
summit,  for  instance,  or  to  the  top  of  Snowdon — and 
see,  in  the  proper  direction,  the  sun  shining  on  the 
clouds,  they  appear  dazzlingly  white.  Ordinary  clouds, 
in  fact,  divide  the  solar  light  impinging  on  them  into 
two  parts — a  reflected  part  and  a  transmitted  part,  in 
each  of  which  the  proportions  of  wave  motion  which 
produce  the  impression  of  whiteness  are  sensibly  pre- 
served. 

It  will  be  understood  that  the  conditions  of  whiteness 
would  fail  if  all  the  waves  were  diminished  equally,  or 
by  the  same  absolute  quantity.  They  must  be  reduced 
proportionately  instead  of  equally.  If  by  the  act  of  re- 
flection the  waves  of  red  light  are  split  into  exact  halves, 
then,  to  preserve  the  light  white,  the  waves  of  yellow, 


(45)  *59 

orange,  green,  and  blue  must  also  be  split  into  exact 
halves.  In  short,  the  reduction  must  take  place,  not  by 
absolutely  equal  quantities,  but  by  equal  fractional  parts. 
In  white  light  the  preponderance  as  regards  energy  of 
the  larger  over  the  smaller  waves  must  always  be 
immense.  Were  the  case  otherwise,  the  physiological 
correlative,  blue,  of  the  smaller  waves  would  have  the 
upper  hand  in  our  sensations. 

My  wish  to  render  our  mental  images  complete,  causes 
me  to  dwell  briefly  upon  these  known  points,  and  the 
same  wish  will  cause  me  to  linger  a  little  longer  among 
others.  But  here  I  am  disturbed  by  my  reflections.  When 
I  consider  the  effect  of  dinner  upon  the  nervous  system, 
and  the  relation  of  that  system  to  the  intellectual  powers  I 
am  now  invoking  ;  when  I  remember  that  the  universal 
experience  of  mankind  has  fixed  upon  certain  definite 
elements  of  perfection  in  an  after-dinner  speech,  and 
when  I  think  how  conspicuous  by  their  absence  these 
elements  are  on  the  present  occasion,  the  thought  is  not 
comforting  to  a  man  who  wishes  to  stand  well  with  his 
fellow-creatures  in  general,  and  with  the  members  of  the 
British  Association  in  particular.  My  condition  might 
well  resemble  that  of  the  ether,  which  is  scientifically 
defined  as  an  assemblage  of  vibrations.  And  the  worst 
of  it  is  that,  unless  you  reverse  the  general  verdict  re- 
garding the  effect  of  dinner,  and  prove  in  your  own  per- 
sons that  a  uniform  experience  need  not  continue  uni- 
form— which  will  be  a  great  point  gained  for  some 
people — these  tremors  of  mine  are  likely  to  become 
more  and  more  painful.  But  I  call  to  mind  the  com- 
forting words  of  an  inspired,  though  uncanonical  writer, 
who  admonishes  us  in  the  Apocrypha  that  fear  is  a  bad 


260  (  46  ) 

counsellor.  Let  me  then  cast  him  out,  and  let  me  trust- 
fully assume  that  you  will  one  and  all  postpone  that 
balmy  sleep,  of  which  dinner  might,  under  the  circum- 
stances, be  regarded  as  the  indissoluble  antecedent,  and 
that  you  will  manfully  and  womanfully  prolong  your  in- 
vestigations of  the  ether  and  its  waves  into  regions 
which  have  been  hitherto  crossed  by  the  pioneers  of 
science  alone. 

Not  only  are  the  waves  of  ether  reflected  by  clouds, 
by  solids,  and  by  liquids,  but  when  they  pass  from  light 
air  to  dense,  or  from  dense  air  to  light,  a  portion  of  the 
wave-motion  is  always  reflected.  Now  our  atmosphere 
changes  continually  in  density  from  top  to  bottom.  It 
will  help  our  conceptions  if  we  regard  it  as  made  up  of 
a  series  of  thin  concentric  layers  or  shells  of  air,  each 
shell  being  of  the  same  density  throughout,  and  a  small 
and  sudden  change  of  density  occuring  in  passing  from 
shell  to  shell.  Light  would  be  reflected  at  the  limiting 
surfaces  of  all  these  shells,  and  their  action  would  be 
practically  the  same  as  that  of  the  real  atmosphere. 

And  now  I  would  ask  your  imagination  to  picture  this 
act  of  reflection.  What  must  become  of  the  reflected 
light  ?  The  atmospheric  layers  turn  their  convex  sur- 
faces towards  the  sun  ;  they  are  so  many  convex  mir- 
rors of  feeble  power,  and  you  will  immediately  perceive 
that  the  light  regularly  reflected  from  these  surfaces 
cannot  reach  the  earth  at  all,  but  is  dispersed  in  space. 

But  though  the  sun's  light  is  not  reflected  in  this 
fashion  from  the  aerial  layers  to  the  earth,  there  is  indu- 
bitable evidence  to  show  that  the  light  of  our  firmament 
is  reflected  light.  Proofs  of  the  most  cogent  descrip- 
tion could  be  here  adduced  ;  but  we  need  only  consider 
that  we  receive  light  at  the  same  time  from  all  parts  of 


47  2* 

the  hemisphere  of  heaven.  The  light  of  the  firmament 
comes  to  us  across  the  direction  of  the  solar  rays,  and 
even  against  the  direction  of  the  solar  rays ;  and  this 
lateral  and  opposing  rush  of  wave-motion  can  only  be 
due  to  the  rebound  of  the  waves  from  the  air  itself,  or 
from  something  suspended  in  the  air.  It  is  also  evident 
that,  unlike  the  action  of  clouds,  the  solar  light  is  not 
reflected  by  the  sky  in  the  proportions  which  produce 
white.  The  sky  is  blue,  which  indicates  a  deficiency 
on  the  part  of  the  larger  waves.  In  accounting  for  the 
color  of  the  sky,  the  first  question  suggested  by  analogy 
would  undoubtedly  be,  is  not  the  air  blue  ?  The  blue- 
ness  of  the  air  has,  in  fact,  been  given  as  a  solution  of 
the  blueness  of  the  sky.  But  reason  basing  itself  on 
observation  asks  in  reply,  How,  if  the  air  be  blue,  can 
the  light  of  sunrise  and  sunset,  which  travels  through 
vast  distances  of  air,  be  yellow,  orange,  or  even  red  ? 
The  passage  of  the  white  solar  light  through  a  blue  me- 
dium could  by  no  possibility  redden  the  light.  The 
hypothesis  of  a  blue  air  is  therefore  untenable.  In  fact, 
the  agent,  whatever  it  is,  which  sends  us  the  light  of  the 
sky,  exercises  in  so  doing  a  dichroitic  action.  The  light 
reflected  is  blue,  the  light  transmitted  is  orange  or  red. 
A  marked  distinction  is  thus  exhibited  between  the  mat- 
ter of  the  sky  and  that  of  an  ordinary  cloud,  which  lat- 
ter exercises  no  such  dichroitic  action. 

By  the  force  of  imagination  and  reason  combined  we 
may  penetrate  this  mystery  also.  The  cloud  takes  no 
note  of  size  on  the  part  of  the  waves  of  ether,  but  reflects 
them  all  alike.  It  exercises  no  selective  action.  Now 
the  cause  of  this  may  be  that  the  cloud  particles  are  so 
large  in  comparison  with  the  size  of  the  waves  of  ether 
as  to  reflect  them  all  indifferently.  A  broad  cliff  re- 


262  ' 

fleets  an  Atlantic  roller  as  easily  as  a  ripple  produced 
by  a  sea  bird's  wing  ;  and  in  the  presence  of  large  re- 
flecting surfaces  the  existing  differences  of  magnitude 
among  the  waves  of  ether  may  disappear.  But  suppos- 
ing the  reflecting  particles,  instead  of  being  very  large, 
to  be  very  small,  in  comparison  with  the  size  of  the 
waves.  In  this  case,  instead  of  the  whole  wave  being 
fronted  and  in  great  part  thrown  back,  a  small  portion 
only  is  shivered  off.  The  great  mass  of  the  wave  passes 
over  such  a  particle  without  reflection.  Scatter  then,  a 
handful  of  such  minute  foreign  particles  in  our  atmos- 
phere, and  set  imagination  to  watch  their  action  upon 
the  solar  waves.  Waves  of  all  sizes  impinge  upon  the 
particles,  and  you  see  at  every  collision  a  portion  of  the 
impinging  wave  struck  off  by  reflection.  All  the  waves 
of  the  spectrum,  from  the  extreme  red  to  the  extreme 
violet,  are  thus  acted  upon.  But  in  what  proportions 
will  the  waves  be  scattered  ?  A  clear  picture  will  enable 
us  to  anticipate  the  experimental  answer.  Remember- 
ing that  the  red  waves  are  to  the  blue  much  in  the  rela- 
tion of  billows  to  ripples,  let  us  consider  whether  those 
extremely  small  particles  are  competent  to  scatter  all 
the  waves  in  the  same  proportion.  If  they  be  not — and 
a  little  reflection  will  make  it  clear  to  you  that  they  are 
not— the  production  of  color  must  be  an  incident  of  the 
scattering.  Largeness  is  a  thing  of  relation ;  and  the 
smaller  the  wave  the  greater  is  the  relative  size  of  any 
particle  on  which  the  wave  impinges,  and  the  greater 
also  the  ratio  of  the  reflected  portion  to  the  total  wave. 
A  pebble  placed  in  the  way  of  the  ring-ripples  pro- 
duced by  our  heavy  rain-drops  on  a  tranquil  pond  will 
throw  back  a  large  fraction  of  the  ripple  incident  upon 
it,  while  the  fractional  part  of  a  larger  wave  thrown  back 


(49)  *63 

by  the  same  pebble  might  be  infinitesimal.  Now  we 
have  already  made  it  clear  to  our  minds  that  to  preserve 
the  solar  light  white,  its  constituent  proportions  must 
not  be  altered  ;  but  in  the  act  of  division  performed  by 
these  very  small  particles  we  see  that  the  proportions 
are  altered  ;  an  undue  fraction  of  the  smaller  waves  is 
scattered  by  the  particles,  and,  as  a  consequence,  in  the 
scattered  light  blue  will  be  the  predominant  color.  The 
other  colors  of  the  spectrum  must,  to  some  extent,  be 
associated  with  the  blue.  They  are  not  absent,  but  de- 
ficient. We  ought,  in  fact,  to  have  them  all,  but  in  dimin- 
ishing proportions,  from  the  violet  to  the  red. 

We  have  here  presented  a  case  to  the  imagination, 
and  assuming  the  undulatory  theory  to  be  a  reality,  we 
have,  I  think,  fairly  reasoned  our  way  to  the  conclusion 
that,  were  particles,  small  in  comparison  to  the  size  of 
the  ether  waves,  sown  in  our  atmosphere,  the  light  scat- 
tered by  those  particles  would  be  exactly  such  as  we  ob- 
serve in  our  azure  skies.  When  this  light  is  analyzed 
all  the  colors  of  the  spectrum  are  found ;  but  they  are 
found  in  the  proportions  indicated  by  our  conclusion. 

Let  us  now  turn  our  attention  to  the  light  which  passes 
unscattered  among  the  particles.  How  must  it  be  finally 
affected  ?  By  its  successive  collisions  with  the  particles, 
the  white  light  is  more  and  more  robbed  of  its  shorter 
waves  ;  it  therefore  loses  more  and  more  of  its  due  pro- 
portion of  blue.  The  result  may  be  anticipated.  The 
transmitted  light,  where  short  distances  are  involved, 
will  appear  yellowish.  But  as  the  sun  sinks  towards  the 
horizon,  the  atmospheric  distances  increase,  and  con^ 
sequently  the  number  of  the  scattering  particles,  They 
abstract,  in  succession,  the  violet,  the  indigo,  the  blue, 
and  even  disturb  the  proportions  of  green.  The  trans- 


264  (  So  ) 

mitted  light  under  such  circumstances  must  pass  from 
yellow  through  orange  to  red.  This  also  is  exactly 
what  we  find  in  nature.  Thus,  while  the  reflected  light 
gives  us  at  noon  the  deep  azure  of  the  Alpine  skies,  the 
transmitted  light  gives  us  at  sunset  the  warm  crimson  of 
the  Alpine  snows.  The  phenomena  certainly  occur  as 
if  our  atmosphere  were  a  medium  rendered  slightly  tur- 
bid by  the  mechanical  suspension  of  exceedingly  small 
foreign  particles. 

Here,  as  before,  we  encounter  our  skeptical  "as  if." 
It  is  one  of  the  parasites  of  science,  ever  at  hand,  and 
ready  to  plant  itself  and  sprout,  if  it  can,  on  the  weak 
points  of  our  philosophy.  But  a  strong  constitution 
defies  the  parasite,  and  in  our  case,  as  we  question  the 
phenomena,  probability  grows  like  growing  health,  until 
in  the  end  the  malady  of  doubt  is  completely  extirpated. 

The  first  question  that  naturally  arises  is,  Can  small 
particles  be  really  proved  to  act  in  the  manner  indicated  ? 
No  doubt  of  it.  Each  one  of  you  can  submit  the  ques- 
tion to  an  experimental  test.  Water  will  not  dissolve 
resin,  but  spirit  will,  and  when  spirit  which  holds 
resin  in  solution  is  dropped  into  water  the  resin  imme- 
diately separates  in  solid  particles,  whicli  render  the 
water  milky.  The  coarseness  of  this  precipitate  de- 
pends on  the  quantity  of  the  dissolved  resin.  You  can 
cause  it  to  separate  in  thick  clots  or  in  exceedingly  fine 
particles.  Professor  Briicke  has  given  us  the  propor- 
tions which  produce  particles  particularly  suited  to  our 
present  purpose.  One  gramme  of  clean  mastic  is  dis- 
solved in  eighty-seven  grammes  of  absolute  alcohol,  and 
the  transparent  solution  is  allowed  to  drop  into^a  beaker 
containing  clear  water  kept  briskly  stirred.  An  exceed- 
ingly fine  precipitate  is  thus  formed,  which  declares  its 


presence  by  its  action  upon  light.  Placing  a  dark  surface 
behind  the  beaker,  and  permitting  the  light  to  fall  into  it 
from  the  top  or  front,  the  medium  is  seen  to  be  distinctly 
blue.  It  is  not,  perhaps,  so  perfect  a  blue  as  I  have  seen  on 
exceptional  days,  this  year,  among  the  Alps,  but  it  is  a 
very  fair  sky  blue.  A  trace  of  soap  in  water  gives  a  tint 
of  blue.  London,  and  I  fear  Liverpool  milk,  makes  an 
approximation  to  the  same  color  through  the  operation 
of  the  same  cause  ;  and  Helmholtz  has  irreverently  dis- 
closed the  fact  that  a  blue  eye  is  simply  a  turbid  medium. 

Numerous  instances  of  the  kind  might  be  cited.  The 
action  of  turbid  media  upon  light  was  fully  and  beauti- 
fully illustrated  by  Goethe,  who,  though  unacquainted 
with  the  undulatory  theory,  was  led  by  his  experiments 
to  regard  the  blue  of  the  firmament  as  caused  by  an 
illuminated  turbid  medium  with  the  darkness  of  space 
behind  it.  He  describes  glasses  showing  a  bright  yellow 
by  transmitted,  and  a  beautiful  blue  by  reflected  light. 
Professor  Stokes,  who  was  probably  the  first  to  discern 
the  real  nature  of  the  action  of  small  particles  on  the 
waves  of  ether,  describes  a  glass  of  a  similar  kind. 
What  artists  call  "  chill "  is  no  doubt  an  effect  of  this 
description.  Through  the  action  of  minute  particles, 
the  browns  of  a  picture  often  present  the  appearance  of 
the  bloom  of  a  plum.  By  rubbing  the  varnish  with  a 
silk  handkerchief  optical  continuity  is  established  and 
the  chill  disappears. 

Some  years  ago  I  witnessed  Mr.  Hirst  experimenting 
at  Zermatt  on  the  turbid  water  of  the  Visp,  which  was 
charged  with  the  finely  divided  matter  ground  down  by 
the  glaciers.  When  kept  still  for  a  day  or  so  the  grosser 
matter  sank,  but  the  finer  matter  remained  suspended, 
and  gave  a  distinctly  blue  tinge  to  the  water.  No  doubt 


266  (52) 

the  blueness  of  certain  Alpine  lakes  is  in  part  due  to 
this  cause.  Professor  Roscoe  has  noticed  several  strik- 
ing cases  of  a  similar  kind.  In  a  very  remarkable  paper 
the  late  Principal  Forbes  showed  that  steam  issuing 
from  the  safety  valve  of  a  locomotive,  when  favorably  ob- 
served, exhibits  at  a  certain  stage  of  its  condensation 
the  colors  of  the  sky.  It  is  blue  by  reflected  light,  and 
orange  or  red  by  transmitted  light.  The  effect,  as 
pointed  out  by  Goethe,  is  to  some  extent  exhibited  by 
peat  smoke. 

More  than  ten  years  ago  I  amused  myself  at  Killar- 
ney,  by  observing  on  a  calm  day,  the  straight  smoke  col- 
umns rising  from  the  chimneys  of  the  cabins.  It  was 
easy  to  project  the  lower  portion  of  a  column  against 
a  bright  cloud.  The  smoke  in  the  former  case 
was  blue,  being  seen  mainly  by  reflected  light ;  in 
the  latter  case  it  was  reddish,  being  seen  mainly 
by  transmitted  light.  Such  smoke  was  not  in  ex- 
actly the  condition  to  give  us  the  glow  of  the  Alps, 
but  it  was  a  step  in  this  direction.  Briicke's  fine  pre- 
cipitate above  referred  to  looks  yellowish  by  transmitted 
light,  but  by  duly  strengthening  the  precipitate  you  may 
render  the  white  light  of  noon  as  ruby  colored  as  the 
sun  when  seen  through  Liverpool  smoke  or  upon  Alpine 
horizons. 

I  do  not,  however,  point  to  the  gross  smoke  arising 
from  coal  as  an  illustration  of  the  action  of  small  parti- 
cles, because  such  smoke  soon  absorbs  and  destroys  the 
waves  of  blue  instead  of  sending  them  to  the  eyes  of  the 
observer. 

These  multifarious  facts,  and  numberless  others  which 
cannot  now  be  referred  to,  are  explained  by  reference  to 
the  single  principle  that  where  the  scattering  particles 


(  53  )  267 

are  small  in  comparison  to  the  size  of  the  waves,  we 
have  in  the  reflected  light  a  greater  proportion  of  the 
smaller  waves,  and  in  the  transmitted  light  a  greater  pro- 
portion of  the  larger  waves,  than  existed  in  the  original 
white  light.  The  physiological  consequence  is  that  in  the 
one  light  blue  is  predominant,  and  in  the  other  light  orange 
or  red.  And  now  let  us  push  our  inquiries  forward.  Our 
best  microscopes  can  readily  reveal  objects  not  more 
than  ^o(7ff  °f  an  mc^  m  diameter.  This  is  less  than 
the  length  of  a  wave  of  red  light.  Indeed,  a  first-rate 
microscope  would  enable  us  to  discern  objects  not  ex- 
ceeding in  diameter  the  length  of  the  smallest  waves  of 
the  visible  spectrum.  By  the  microscope,  therefore,  we 
can  submit  our  particles  to  an  experimental  test.  If 
they  are  as  large  as  the  light-waves  they  will  infallibly 
be  seen  ;  and  if  they  are  not  seen  it  is  because  they  are 
smaller. 

I  placed  in  the  hands  of  our  president  a  bottle  con- 
taining Briicke's  particles  in  greater  number  and  coarse- 
ness than  those  examined  by  Briicke  himself.  The 
liquid  was  a  milky  blue,  and  Mr.  Huxley  applied  to  it 
his  highest  microscopic  power.  He  satisfied  me  at  the 
time  that  had  particles  of  even  1T5o\joo  of  an  inch  in 
diameter  existed  in  the  liquid  they  could  not  have 
escaped  detection.  But  no  particles  were  seen.  Under 
the  microscope  the  turbid  liquid  was  not  to  be  distin- 
guished from  distilled  water.  Briicke,  I  may  say,  also 
found  the  particles  to  be  of  ultra  microscopic  magni- 
tude. 

But  we  have  it  in  our  power  to  imitate  far  more  closely 
than  we  have  hitherto  done  the  natural  conditions  of 
this  problem.  We  can  generate  in  air,  as  many  of  you 
know,  artificial  skies,  and  prove  their  perfect  identity  with 


(54) 

the  natural  one  as  regards  the  exhibition  of  a  number 
of  wholly  unexpected  phenomena.  By  a  continuous 
process  of  growth,  moreover,  we  are  able  to  connect 
sky  matter,  if  I  may  use  the  term,  with  molecular  mat- 
ter on  the  one  side,  and  with  molar  matter,  or  matter  in 
sensible  masses,  on  the  other. 

In  illustration  of  this,  I  will  take  an  experiment  de- 
scribed by  M.  Morren,  of  Marseilles,  at  the  last  meet- 
ing of  the  British  Association.  Sulphur  and  oxygen 
combine  to  form  sulphurous  acid  gas.  It  is  this  chok- 
ing gas  that  is  smelt  when  a  sulphur  match  is  burnt  in 
air.  Two  atoms  of  oxygen  and  one  of  sulphur  consti- 
tute the  molecule  of  sulphurous  acid.  Now  it  has  been 
recently  shown  in  a  great  number  of  instances  that 
waves  of  ether  issuing  from  a  strong  source,  such  as  the 
sun  or  the  electric  light,  are  competent  to  shake  asunder 
the  atoms  of  gaseous  molecules.  A  chemist  would  call 
this  "  decomposition"  by  light ;  but  it  behooves  us,  who 
are  examining  the  power  and  function  of  the  imagination, 
to  keep  constantly  before  us  the  physical  images  which 
we  hold  to  underlie  our  terms.  Therefore  I  say,  sharply 
and  definitely,  that  the  components  of  the  molecules 
of  sulphurous  acid  are  shaken  asunder  by  the  ether 
waves.  Inclosing  the  substance  in  a  suitable  vessel, 
placing  it  in  a  dark  room,  and  sending  through  it  a 
powerful  beam  of  light,  we  at  first  see  nothing  j  the  ves- 
sel containing  the  gas  is  as  empty  as  a  vacuum.  Soon, 
however,  along  the  track  of  the  beam  a  beautiful  sky- 
blue  color  is  observed,  which  is  due  to  the  liberated 
particles  of  sulphur.  For  a  time  the  blue  grows  more 
intense  \  it  then  becomes  whitish  ;  and  from  a  whitish  blue 
it  passes  to  a  more  or  less  perfect  white.  If  the  action 
be  continued  long  enough,  we  end  by  filling  the  tube 


(55)  *to 

with  a  dense  cloud  of  sulphur  particles,  which  by  the 
application  of  proper  means  may  be  rendered  visible. 

Here,  then,  our  ether  waves  untie  the  bond  of  chemi- 
cal affinity,  and  liberate  a  body — sulphur — which  at  or- 
dinary temperatures  is  a  solid,  and  which  therefore  soon 
becomes  an  object  of  the  senses.  We  have  first  of  all 
the  free  atoms  of  sulphur,  which  are  both  invisible  and 
incompetent  to  stir  the  retina  sensibly  with  scattered 
light.  But  these  atoms  gradually  coalesce  and  form 
particles,  which  grow  larger  by  continual  accretion  until 
after  a  minute  or  two  they  appear  as  sky  matter.  In 
this  condition  they  are  invisible  themselves,  but  compe- 
tent to  send  an  amount  of  wave  motion  to  the  retina 
sufficient  to  produce  the  firmamental  blue.  The  parti- 
cles continue,  or  may  be  caused  to  continue,  in  this  con- 
dition for  a  considerable  time,  during  which  no  micro- 
scope can  cope  with  them.  But  they  continually  grow 
larger,  and  pass  by  insensible  gradations  into  the  state  of 
cloud,  when  they  can  no  longer  elude  the  armed  eye. 
Thus,  without  solution  of  continuity,  we  start  with  mat- 
ter in  the  molecule,  and  end  with  matter  in  the  mass, 
sky  matter  being  the  middle  term  of  the  series  of  trans- 
formations. 

Instead  of  sulphurous  acid  we  might  choose  from  a 
dozen  other  substances,  and  produce  the  same  effect 
with  any  of  them.  In  the  case  of  some — probably  in 
the  case  of  all — it  is  possible  to  preserve  matter  in  the 
skyey  condition  for  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  under  the 
continual  operation  of  the  light.  During  these  fifteen  or 
twenty  minutes  the  particles  are  constantly  growing 
larger,  without  ever  exceeding  the  size  requisite  to  the 
production  of  the  celestial  blue.  Now  when  two  ves- 
sels are  placed  before  you,  each  containing  sky  matter, 


270  (S6) 

it  is  possible  to  state  with  great  distinctness  which  ves- 
sel contains  the  largest  particles. 

The  eye  is  very  sensitive  to  differences  of  light,  when, 
as  here,  the  eye  is  in  comparative  darkness,  and  when 
the  quantities  of  wave  motion  thrown  against  the  retina 
are  small.  The  larger  particles  declare  themselves  by 
the  greater  whiteness  of  their  scattered  light.  Call  now 
to  mind  the  observation,  or  effort  at  observation,  made  by 
our  president  when  he  failed  to  distinguish  the  particles 
of  resin  in  Briicke's  medium,  and  when  you  have  done 
so  follow  me.  I  permitted  a  beam  of  light  to  act  upon 
a  certain  vapor.  In  two  minutes  the  azure  appeared, 
but  at  the  end  of  fifteen  minutes  it  had  not  ceased  to 
be  azure.  After  fifteen  minutes,  for  example,  its  color 
and  some  other  phenomena  pronounced  it  to  be  a  blue 
of  distinctly  smaller  particles  than  those  sought  for  in 
tain  by  Mr.  Huxley.  These  particles,  as  already  stated, 

must  have  been  less  than  To<ro<y<y  °f  an  mcn  m  diame- 
ter. 

And  now  I  want  you  to  submit  to  your  imagination 
the  following  question :  Here  are  particles  which  have 
been  growing  continually  for  fifteen  minutes,  and  at  the 
end  of  that  time  are  demonstrably  smaller  than  those 
which  defied  the  microscope  of  Mr.  Huxley.  What 
must  have  been  the  size  of  these  particles  at  the  begin- 
ning of  their  growth  ?  What  notion  can  you  form  of 
the  magnitude  of  such  particles  ?  As  the  distances  of 
stellar  space  give  us  simply  a  bewildering  sense  of  vast- 
ness  without  leaving  any  distinct  impression  on  the  mind, 
so  the  magnitudes  with  which  we  have  here  to  do  im- 
press us  with  a  bewildering  sense  of  smallness.  We 
are  dealing  with  infinitesimals  compared  with  which  the 
test  objects  of  the  microscope  are  literally  immense, 


(57)  2?r 

From  their  perviousness  to  stellar  light,  and  other 
considerations,  Sir  John  Herschel  drew  some  startling 
conclusions  regarding  the  density  and  weight  of  comets. 
You  know  that  these  extraordinary  and  mysterious  bod- 
ies sometimes  throw  out  tails  100,000,000  of  miles  in 
length,  and  50,000  miles  in  diameter.  The  diameter  of 
our  earth  is  8,000  miles.  Both  it  and  the  sky,  and  a 
good  portion  of  space  beyond  the  sky,  would  certainly 
be  included  in  a  sphere  10,000  miles  across.  Let  us  fill 
this  sphere  with  cometary  matter,  and  make  it  our  unit 
of  measure.  An  easy  calculation  informs  us  that  to 
produce  a  comet's  tail  of  the  size  just  mentioned,  about 
300,000  such  measures  would  have  to  be  emptied  into 
space.  Now  suppose  the  whole  of  this  stuff  to  be  swept 
together,  and  suitably  compressed,  what  do  you  suppose 
its  volume  would  be  ?  Sir  John  Herschel  would  prob- 
ably tell  you  that  the  whole  mass  might  be  carted  away 
at  a  single  effort  by  one  of  your  dray-horses.  In  fact,  I 
do  not  know  that  he  would  require  more  than  a  small 
fraction  of  a  horse-power  to  remove  the  cometary  dust. 
After  this  you  will  hardly  regard  as  monstrous  a  notion 
I  have  sometimes  entertained  concerning  the  quantity 
of  matter  in  our  sky.  Suppose  a  shell,  then,  to  sur- 
round the  earth  at  a  hight  above  the  surface  which 
would  place  it  beyond  the  grosser  matter  that  hangs  in 
the  lower  regions  of  the  air — say  at  the  hight  of  the 
Matterhorn  or  Mont  Blanc.  Outside  this  shell  we  have 
the  deep  blue  firmament.  Let  the  atmospheric  space 
beyond  t)ie  shell  be  swept  clean,  and  let  the  sky  matter 
be  properly  gathered  up.  What  is  its  probable  amount  ? 
I  have  sometimes  thought  that  a  lady's  portmanteau 
would  contain  it  all.  I  have  thought  that  even  a  gentle- 
man's portmanteau — possibly  his  snuff-box — might  take  it 


3?2  (58) 

in.  And  whether  the  actual  sky  be  capable  of  this  amount 
of  condensation  or  not,  I  entertain  no  doubt  that  a  sky 
quite  as  vast  as  ours,  and  as  good  in  appearance,  could 
be  formed  from  a  quantity  of  matter  which  might  be 
held  in  the  hollow  of  the  hand. 

Small  in  mass,  the  vastness  in  point  of  number  of  the 
particles  of  our  sky  may  be  inferred  from  the  continuity 
of  its  light.  It  is  not  in  broken  patches  nor  at  scattered 
points  that  the  heavenly  azure  is  revealed.  To  the  ob- 
server on  the  summit  of  Mont  Blanc  the  blue  is  as  uni- 
form and  coherent  as  if  it  formed  the  surface  of  the  most 
close-grained  solid.  A  marble  dome  would  not  exhibit 
a  stricter  continuity.  And  Mr.  Glaisher  will  inform  you 
that  if  our  hypothetical  shell  were  lifted  to  twice  the 
hight  of  Mont  Blanc  above  the  earth's  surface,  we 
should  still  have  the  azure  overhead.  Everywhere 
through  the  atmosphere  those  sky  particles  are  strewn. 
They  fill  the  Alpine  valleys,  spreading  like  a  delicate 
gauze  in  front  of  the  slopes  of  pine.  They  sometimes 
so  swathe  the  peaks  with  light  as  to  abolish  their  defini- 
tion. This  year  I  have  seen  the  Weisshorn  thus  dis- 
solved in  opalescent  air. 

By  proper  instruments  the  glare  thrown  from  the  sky 
particles  against  the  retina  may  be  quenched,  and  then 
the  mountain  which  it  obliterated  starts  into  sudden 
definition.  Its  extinction  in  front  of  a  dark  mountain 
resembles  exactly  the  withdrawal  of  a  veil.  It  is  the 
light  then  taking  possession  of  the  eye,  and  not  the 
particles  acting  as  opaque  bodies,  that  interfere  with  the 
definition. 

By  day  this  light  quenches  the  stars ;  even  by  moon- 
light it  is  able  to  exclude  from  vision  all  stars  between 
the  fifth  and  the  eleventh  magnitude.  It  may  be  likened 


(  59  2?3 

to  a  noise,  and  the  stellar  radiance  to  a  whisper  drowned 
by  the  noise.  What  is  the  nature  of  the  particles  which 
shed  this  light  ?  On  points  of  controversy  I  will  not 
here  enter,  but  I  may  say  that  De  la  Rive  ascribes  the 
haze  of  the  Alps  in  fine  weather  to  floating  organic 
germs.  Now  the  possible  existence  of  germs  in  such 
profusion  has  been  held  up  as  an  absurdity.  It  has 
been  affirmed  that  they  would  darken  the  air,  and  on 
the  assumed  impossibility  of  their  existence  in  the 
requisite  numbers,  without  invasion  of  the  solar  light,  a 
powerful  argument  has  been  based  by  believers  in  spon- 
taneous generation. 

Similar  arguments  have  been  used  by  the  opponents 
of  the  germ  theory  of  epidemic  disease,  and  both  par- 
ties have  triumphantly  challenged  an  appeal  to  the 
microscope  and  the  chemist's  balance  to  decide  the  ques- 
tion. Without  committing  myself  in  the  least  to  De  la 
Rive's  notion,  without  offering  any  objection  here  to 
the  doctrine  of  spontaneous  generation,  without  ex- 
pressing any  adherence  to  the  germ  theory  of  disease,  I 
would  simply  draw  attention  to  the  fact  that  in  the  at- 
mosphere we  have  particles  which  defy  both  the  micro- 
scope and  the  balance,  which  do  not  darken  the  air,  and 
which  exist,  nevertheless,  in  multitudes  sufficient  to  re- 
duce to  insignificance  the  Israelitish  hyperbole  regard- 
ing the  sands  upon  the  seashore. 

The  varying  judgments  of  men  on  these  and  other 
questions  may  perhaps  be,  to  some  extent,  accounted  for 
by  that  doctrine  of  relativity  which  plays  so  important 
a  part  in  philosophy.  This  doctrine  affirms  that  the  im- 
pressions made  upon  us  by  any  circumstance,  or  combi- 
nation of  circumstances,  depends  upon  our  previous 
state.  Two  travelers  upon  the  same  peak,  the  one  hay- 


274  (  60  ) 

ing  ascended  to  it  from  the  plain,  the  other  having  de- 
scended to  it  from  a  higher  elevation,  will  be  differently 
affected  by  the  scene  around  them.  To  the  one  nature 
is  expanding,  to  the  other  it  is  contracting,  and  feelings 
are  sure  to  differ  which  have  two  such  different  antece- 
dent states. 

In  our  scientific  judgments  the  law  of  relativity  may 
also  play  an  important  part.  To  two  men,  one  educated 
in  the  school  of  the  senses,  who  has  mainly  occupied 
himself  with  observation,  and  the  other  educated  in  the 
school  of  imagination  as  well,  and  exercised  in  the  con- 
ception of  atoms  and  molecules  to  which  we  have  so 
frequently  referred,  a  bit  of  matter,  say  ^T>  O^TF  °f  an  mcn 
in  diameter,  will  present  itself  differently.  The  one  de- 
scends to  it  from  his  molar  hights,  the  other  climbs  to 
it  from  his  molecular  lowlands.  To  the  one  it  appears 
small,  to  the  other  large.  So  also  as  regards  the  appre- 
ciation of  the  most  minute  forms  of  life  revealed  by  the 
microscope.  To  one  of  these  men  they  naturally  ap- 
pear conterminous  with  the  ultimate  particles  of  matter, 
and  he  readily  figures  the  molecules  from  which  they  di- 
rectly spring }  with  him  there  is  but  a  step  from  the 
atom  to  the  organism.  The  other  discerns  numberless 
organic  gradations  between  both.  Compared  with  his 
atoms,  the  smallest  vibrios  and  bacteria  of  the  micro- 
scopic field  are  as  behemoth  and  leviathan. 

The  law  of  relativity  may  to  some  extent  explain  the 
different  attitudes  of  these  two  men  with  regard  to  the 
question  of  spontaneous  generation.  An  amount  of 
evidence  which  satisfies  the  one  entirely  fails  to  satisfy 
the  other;  and  while  to  the  one  the  last  bold  defense 
and  startling  expansion  of  the  doctrine  will  appear  per- 
fectly conclusive,  to  the  other  it  will  present  itself  as  im- 


(.6i  )  275 

posing  a  profitless  labor  of  demolition  on  subsequent  in- 
vestigators. The  proper  and  possible  attitude  of  these 
two  men  is  that  each  of  them  should  work  as  if  it  were 
his  aim  and  object  to  establish  the  view  entertained  by 
the  other. 

I  trust,  Mr.  President,  that  you — whom  untoward  cir- 
cumstances have  made  a  biologist,  but  who  still  keep 
alive  your  sympathy  with  that  class  of  inquiries  which 
nature  intended  you  to  pursue  and  adorn — will  excuse 
me  to  your  brethren  if  I  say  that  some  of  them  seem  to 
form  an  inadequate  estimate  of  the  distance  which  sep- 
arates the  microscopic  from  the  molecular  limit,  and 
that,  as  a  consequence,  they  sometimes  employ  a  phrase- 
ology which  is  calculated  to  mislead. 

When,  for  example,  the  contents  of  a  cell  are  de- 
scribed as  perfectly  homogeneous,  as  absolutely  struc- 
tureless, because  the  microscope  fails  to  distinguish  any 
structure,  then  I  think  the  microscope  begins  to  play  a 
mischievous  part.  A  little  consideration  will  make  it 
plain  to  all  of  you  that  the  microscope  can  have  no  voice 
in  the  real  question  of  germ  structure.  Distilled 
water  is  more  perfectly  homogeneous  than  the  contents 
of  any  possible  organic  germ.  What  causes  the  liquid 
to  cease  contracting  at  39°  F.,  and  to  grow  bigger  until 
it  freezes  ?  It  is  a  structural  process  of  which  the 
microscope  can  take  no  note,  nor  is  it  likely  to  do  so 
by  any  conceivable  extension  of  its  powers.  Place  this 
distilled  water  in  the  field  of  an  electro-magnet,  and 
bring  a  microscope  to  bear  upon  it.  Will  any  change 
be  observed  when  the  magnet  is  excited  ?  Absolutely 
none  ;  and  still  profound  and  complex  changes  have 
occurred. 

First  of  all,  the  particles  of  water  are  rendered  dia- 


*7<5  (  62  ) 

magnetically  polar ;  and  secondly,  in  virtue  of  the  struc- 
ture impressed  upon  it  by  the  magnetic  strain  of  its 
molecules,  the  liquid  twists  a  ray  of  light  in  a  fashion 
perfectly  determinate  both  as  to  quantity  and  direction. 
It  would  be  immensely  interesting  to  both  you  and  me 
if  one  here  present,  who  has  brought  his  brilliant  imag- 
ination to  bear  upon  this  subject,  could  make  us  see  as 
he  sees  the  entangled  molecular  processes  involved  in 
the  rotation  of  the  plane  of  polarization  by  magnetic 
force.  While  dealing  with  this  question  he  lived  in  a 
world  of  matter  and  of  motion  to  which  the  microscope 
has  no  passport,  and  in  which  it  can  offer  no  aid.  The 
cases  in  which  similar  conditions  hold  are  simply  num- 
berless. Have  the  diamond,  the  amethyst,  and  the 
countless  other  crystals  formed  in  the  laboratories  of 
nature  and  of  man,  no  structure  ?  Assuredly  they  have, 
but  what  can  the  microscope  make  of  it?  Nothing.  It 
cannot  be  too  distinctly  borne  in  mind  that  between  the 
microscopic  limit  and  the  true  molecular  limit  there  is 
room  for  infinite  permutations  and  combinations.  It  is 
in  this  region  that  the  poles  of  the  atoms  are  arranged, 
that  tendency  is  given  to  their  powers,  so  that  when 
these  poles  and  powers  have  free  action  and  proper 
stimulus  in  a  suitable  environment,  they  determine  first 
the  germ  and  afterwards  the  complete  organism.  This 
first  marshaling  of  the  atoms  on  which  all  subsequent 
action  depends  baffles  a  keener  power  than  that  of  the 
microscope.  Through  pure  excess  of  complexity,  and 
long  before  observation  can  have  any  voice  in  the  mat- 
ter, the  most  highly  trained  intellect,  the  most  refined 
and  disciplined  imagination,  retires  in  bewilderment 
from  the  contemplation  of  the  problem.  We  are  struck 
dumb  by  an  astonishment  which  no  microscope  can  re- 


(63)  *7/ 

lieve,  doubting  not  only  the  power  of  our  instrument, 
but  even  whether  we  ourselves  possess  the  intellectual 
elements  which  will  ever  enable  us  to  grapple  with  the 
ultimate  structural  energies  of  nature. 

But  the  speculative  faculty,  of  which  imagination 
forms  so  large  a  part,  will  nevertheless  wander  into 
regions  where  the  hope  of  certainty  would  seem  to  be 
entirely  shut  out.  We  think  that  though  the  detailed 
analysis  may  be,  and  may  ever  remain,  beyond  us,  gen- 
eral notions  may  be  attainable.  At  all  events,  it  is  plain 
that  beyond  the  present  outposts  of  microscopic  inquiry 
lies  an  immense  field  for  the  exercise  of  the  imagination. 
It  is  only,  however,  the  privileged  spirits  who  know  how 
to  use  their  liberty  without  abusing  it,  who  are  able  to 
surround  imagination  by  the  firm  frontiers  of  reason, 
that  are  likely  to  work  with  any  profit  here.  But  free- 
dom to  them  is  of  such  paramount  importance  that,  for 
the  sake  of  securing  it,  a  good  deal  of  wildness  on  the 
part  of  weaker  brethren  may  be  overlooked.  In  more 
senses  than  one  Mr.  Darwin  has  drawn  heavily  upon 
the  scientific  tolerance  of  his  age.  He  has  drawn  heav- 
ily upon  time  in  his  development  of  species,  and  he  has 
drawn  adventurously  upon  matter  in  his  theory  of  pan- 
genesis.  According  to  this  theory,  a  germ  already  mi- 
croscopic is  a  world  of  minor  germs.  Not  only  is  the 
organism  as  a  whole  wrapped  up  in  the  germ,  but  every 
organ  of  the  organism  has  there  its  special  seed. 

This,  I  say,  is  an  adventurous  draft  on  the  power  of 
matter  to  divide  itself  and  distribute  its  forces.  But, 
unless  we  are  perfectly  sure  that  he  is  overstepping  the 
bounds  of  reason,  that  he  is  unwittingly  sinning  against 
observed  fact  or  demonstrated  law — for  a  mind  like  that 
of  Darwin  can  never  sin  wittingly  against  either  fact  or 


*7S  (64) 

law— we  ought,  I  think',  to  be  cautious  in  limiting  his 
intellectual  horizon.  If  there  be  the  least  doubt  in  the 
matter,  it  ought  to  be  given  in  favor  of  the  freedom  of 
such  a  mind.  To  it  a  vast  possibility  is  in  itself  a 
dynamic  power,  though  the  possibility  may  never  be 
drawn  upon. 

It  gives  me  pleasure  to  think  that  the  facts  and 
reasonings  of  this  discourse  tend  rather  towards  the 
justification  of  Mr.  Darwin  than  towards  his  condemna- 
tion, that  they  tend  rather  to  augment  than  to  diminish 
the  cubic  space  demanded  by  this  soaring  speculator ; 
.for  they  seem  to  show  the  perfect  competence  of  matter 
and  force,  as  regards  divisibility  and  distribution,  to  bear 
the  heaviest  strain  that  he  has  hitherto  imposed  upon 
them. 

In  the  case  of  Mr.  Darwin,  observation,  imagination, 
and  reason  combined  have  run  back  with  wonderful 
sagacity  and  success  over  a  certain  length  of  the  line  of 
biological  succession.  Guided  by  analogy,  in  his  "  Ori- 
gin of  Species  "  he  placed  as  the  root  of  life  a  primor- 
dial germ,  from  which  he  conceived  the  amazing  rich- 
ness and  variety  of  the  life  that  now  is  upon  the  earth's 
surface,  might  be  deduced.  If  this  were  true  it  would, 
not  be  final.  The  human  imagination  would  infallibly 
look  behind  the  germ,  and  inquire  into  the  history  of  its 
genesis. 

Certainty  is  here  hopeless,  but  the  materials  for  an 
opinion  may  be  attainable.  In  this  dim  twilight  of 
speculation  the  inquirer  welcomes  every  gleam,  and  seeks 
to  augment  his  light  by  indirect  incidences.  He  studies 
the  methods  of  nature  in  the  ages  and  the  worlds  within 
his  reach,  in  order  to  shape  the  course  of  imagination 
In  the  antecedent  ages  and  worlds.  And  though  the 


(  65  )  279 

certainty  possessed  by  experimental  inquiry  is  here  shut 
out,  the  imagination  is  not  left  entirely  without  guidance. 
From  the  examination  of  the  solar  system,  Kant  and 
Laplace  came  to  the  conclusion  that  its  various  bodies 
once  formed  parts  of  the  same  undislocated  mass  ;  that 
matter  in  a  nebulous  form  preceded  matter  in  a  dense 
form  j  that  as  the  ages  rolled  away  heat  was  wasted, 
condensation  followed,  planets  were  detached,  and  that 
finally  the  chief  portion  of  the  fiery  cloud  reached,  by 
self-compression,  the  magnitude  and  density  of  our  sun. 
The  earth  itself  offers  evidence  of  a  fiery  origin  ;  and 
in  our  day  the  hypothesis  of  Kant  and  Laplace  receives 
the  independent  countenance  of  spectrum  analysis, 
which  proves  the  same  substances  to  be  common  to  the 
earth  and  sun.  Accepting  some  such  view  of  the  con- 
struction of  our  system  as  probable,  a  desire  immediately 
arises  to  connect  the  present  life  of  our  planet  with  the 
past.  We  wish  to  know  something  of  our  remotest  an- 
cestry. 

On  its  first  detachment  from  the  central  mass,  life,  as 
we  understand  it,  could  hardly  have  been  present  on  the 
earth.  How  then  did  it  come  there  ?  The  thing  to  be 
encouraged  here  is  a  reverent  freedom — a  freedom  pre- 
ceded by  the  hard  discipline  which  checks  licentiousness 
in  speculation — while  the  thing  to  be  repressed,  both  in 
science  and  out  of  it,  is  dogmatism.  And  here  I  am  in 
the  hands  of  the  meeting — willing  to  end,  but  ready  to 
go  on.  I  have  no  right  to  intrude  upon  you,  unasked, 
the  unformed  notions  which  are  floating  like  clouds  or 
gathering  to  more  solid  consistency  in  the  modern  spec- 
ulative scientific  mind.  But  if  you  wish  me  to  speak 
plainly,  honestly,  and  undisputatiously,  I  am  willing  to 
do  so.  On  the  present  occasion 

You  are  ordained  to  call,  and  I  to  come. 


28o  (  66  ) 

Two  views,  then,  offer  themselves  to  us.  Life  was 
present  potentially  in  matter  when  in  the  nebulous  form, 
and  was  unfolded  from  it  by  the  way  of  natural  develop- 
ment, or  it  is  a  principle  inserted  into  matter  at  a  later 
date.  With  regard  to  the  question  of  time,  the  views  of 
men  have  changed  remarkably  in  our  day  and  genera- 
tion j  and  I  must  say  as  regards  courage  also,  and  a 
manful  willingness  to  engage  in  open  contest,  with  fair 
.weapons,  a  great  change  has  also  occurred. 

The  clergy  of  England — at  all  events  the  clergy  of 
London — have  nerve  enough  to  listen  to  the  strongest 
views  which  any  one  amongst  us  would  care  to  utter  ; 
and  they  invite,  if  they  do  not  challenge,  men  of  the 
most  decided  opinions  to  state  and  stand  by  those  opin- 
ions in  open  court.  No  theory  upsets  them.  Let  the 
most  destructive  hypothesis  be  stated  only  in  the  lan- 
guage current  among  gentlemen,  and  they  look  it  in  the 
face.  They  forego  alike  the  thunders  of  heaven  and  the 
terrors  of  the  other  place,  smiting  the  theory,  if  they  do 
not  like  it,  with  honest  secular  strength.  In  fact,  the 
greatest  cowards  of  the  present  day  are  not  to  be  found 
among  the  clergy,  but  within  the  pale  of  science  itself. 

Two  or  three  years  ago  in  an  ancient  London  college 
— a  clerical  institution — I  heard  a  very  remarkable  lec- 
ture by  a  very  remarkable  man.  Three  or  four  hundred 
clergymen  were  present  at  the  lecture.  The  orator 
began  with  the  civilization  of  Egypt  in  the  time  of 
Joseph  ;  pointing  out  that  the  very  perfect  organization 
of  the  kingdom,  and  the  possession  of  chariots,  in  one 
of  which  Joseph  rode,  indicated  a  long  antecedent 
period  of  civilization.  He  then  passed  on  to  the  mud 
of  the  Nile,  its  rate  of  augmentation,  its  present  thick- 
ness, and  the  remains  of  human  handiwork  found  therein; 


<67)  28* 

thence  to  the  rocks  which  bound  the  Nile  valley,  and 
which  team  with  organic  remains.  Thus,  in  his  own 
clear  and  admirable  way,  he  caused  the  idea  of  the 
world's  age  to  expand  itself  indefinitely  before  the  mind 
of  his  audience,  and  he  contrasted  this  with  the  age 
usually  assigned  to  the  world. 

During  his  discourse  he  seemed  to  be  swimming 
against  a  stream  ;  he  manifestly  thought  that  he  was  op- 
posing a  general  conviction.  He  expected  resistance  ; 
so  did  I.  But  it  was  all  a  mistake  ;  there  was  no  ad- 
verse current,  no  opposing  conviction,  no  resistance, 
merely  here  and  there  a  half  humorous  but  unsuccess- 
ful attempt  to  entangle  him  in  his  talk.  The  meeting 
agreed  with  all  that  had  been  said  regarding  the  an- 
tiquity of  the  earth  and  of  its  life.  They  had,  indeed, 
known  it  all  long  ago,  and  they  good-humoredly  rallied 
the  lecturer  for  coming  amongst  them  with  so  stale  a 
story.  It  was  quite  plain  that  this  large  body  of  clergy- 
men, who  were,  I  should  say,  the  finest  samples  of  their 
class,  had  entirely  given  up  the  ancient  landmarks,  and 
transported  the  conception  of  life's  origin  to  an  indefi- 
nitely distant  past. 

In  fact,  clergymen,  if  I  might  be  allowed  a  paren- 
thesis to  say  so,  have  as  strong  a  leaning  towards  scien- 
tific truth  as  other  men,  only  the  resistance  to  this  bent 
— a  resistance  due  to  education — is  generally  stronger 
in  their  case  than  in  others.  They  do  not  lack  the  pos- 
itive element,  namely,  the  love  of  truth,  but  the  negative 
element,  the  fear  of  error,  preponderates. 

The  strength  of  an  electric  current  is  determined  by 
two  things — the  electro-motive  force,  and  the  resistance 
that  force  has  to  overcome.  A  fraction,  with  the  former 
as  numerator  and  the  latter  as  denominator,  expresses 


282  (  68  ) 

the  current-strength.  The  "current-strength"  of  the 
clergy  towards  science  may  also  be  expressed  by  mak- 
ing the  positive  element  just  referred  to  the  numerator, 
and  the  negative  one  the  denominator  of  a  fraction. 
The  numerator  is  not  zero  nor  is  it  even  small,  but  the  de- 
nominator is  large  ;  and  hence  the  current  strength  is 
such  as  we  find  it  to  be.  Slowness  of  conception,  even 
open  hostility,  may  be  thus  accounted  for.  They  are 
for  the  most  part  errors  of  judgment,  and  not  sins 
against  truth.  To  most  of  us  it  may  appear  very  sim- 
ple, but  to  a  few  of  us  it  appears  transcendently  won- 
derful, that  in  all -classes  of  society  truth  should  have 
this  power  and  fascination.  From  the  countless  modifi- 
cations that  life  has  undergone  through  natural  selec- 
tion and  the  integration  of  infinitesimal  steps,  emerges 
finally  the  grand  result  that  the  strength  of  truth  is 
greater  than  the  strength  of  error,  and  that  we  have 
only  to  make  the  truth  clear  to  the  world  to  gain  the 
world  to  our  side.  Probably  no  one  wonders  more  at 
this  result  than  the  propounder  of  the  law  of  natural 
selection  himself.  Reverting  to  an  old  acquaintance  of 
ours,  it  would  seem,  on  purely  scientific  grounds,  as  if 
a  Veracity  were  at  the  heart  of  things  j  as  if,  after  ages  of 
latent  working,  it  had  finally  unfolded  itself  in  the  life  of 
man  ;  as  if  it  were  still  destined  to  unfold  itself,  growing  in 
girth,  throwing  out  stronger  branches  and  thicker  leaves, 
and  tending  more  and  more  by  its  overshadowing  pres- 
ence to  starve  the  weeds  of  error  from  the  intellectual 
soil. 

But  this  is  parenthetical ;  and  the  gist  of  our  present 
inquiry  regarding  the  introduction  of  life  is  this :  Does 
it  belong  to  what  we  call  matter,  or  is  it  an  independent 
principle  inserted  into  matter  at  some  suitable  epoch— 


(  69  )  283 

say  when  the  physical  conditions  become  such  as  to 
permit  of  the  development  of  life  ?  Let  us  put  the 
question  with  all  the  reverence  due  to  a  faith  and  cul- 
ture in  which  we  all  were  cradled — a  faith  and  culture, 
moreover,  which  are  the  undeniable  historic  antecedents 
of  our  present  enlightenment.  I  say,  let  us  put  the 
question  reverently,  but  let  us  also  put  it  clearly  and 
definitely. 

There  are  the  strongest  grounds  for  believing  that 
during  a  certain  period  of  its  history  the  earth  was  not, 
nor  was  it  fit  to  be,  the  theater  of  life.  Whether  this 
was  ever  a  nebulous  period,  or  merely  a  molten  period, 
does  not  much  matter  ;  and  if  we  revert  to  the  nebulous 
condition,  it  is  because  the  probabilities  are  really  on  its 
side.  Our  question  is  this  :  Did  creative  energy  pause 
until  the  nebulous  matter  had  condensed,  until  the  earth 
had  been  detached,  until  the  solar  fire  had  so  far  with- 
drawn from  the  earth's"  vicinity  as  to  permit  a  crust  to 
gather  round  a  planet  ?  Did  it  wait  until  the  air  was  is- 
olated, until  the  seas  were  formed,  until  evaporation, 
condensation,  and  the  descent  of  rain  had  begun,  until 
the  eroding  forces  of  the  atmosphere  had  weathered  and 
decomposed  the  molten  rocks  so  as  to  form  soils,  until 
the  sun's  rays  had  become  so  tempered  by  distance  and 
by  waste  as  to  be  chemically  fit  for  the  decompositions 
necessary  to  vegetable  life  ?  Having  waited  through 
those  aeons  until  the  proper  conditions  had  set  in,  did 
it  send  the  fiat  forth,  "  Let  life  be  !"  ?  These  questions 
define  a  hypothesis  not  without  its  difficulties,  but  the 
dignity  of  which  was  demonstrated  by  the  nobleness  of 
the  men  whom  it  sustained. 

Modern  scientific  thought  is  called  upon  to  decide  be- 
tween this  hypothesis  and  another ;  and  public  thought 


284  (  70  ) 

generally  will  afterwards  be  called  upon  to  do  the  same. 
You  may,  however,  rest  secure  in  the  belief  that  the 
hypothesis  just  sketched  can  never  be  stormed,  and  that 
it  is  sure,  if  it  yield  at  all,  to  yield  to  a  prolonged  siege. 
To  gain  new  territory,  modern  argument  requires  more 
time  than  modern  arms,  though  both  of  them  move  with 
greater  rapidity  than  of  yore. 

But  however  the  convictions  of  individuals  here  and 
there  may  be  influenced,  the  process  must  be  slow  and 
secular  which  commends  the  rival  hypothesis  of  natural 
evolution  to  the  public  mind.  For  what  are  the  core 
and  essence  of  this  hypothesis  ?  Strip  it  naked  and 
you  stand  face  to  face  with  the  notion  that  not  alone  the 
more  ignoble  forms  of  animalcular  or  animal  life,  not 
alone  the  nobler  forms  of  the  horse  and  lion,  not  alone 
the  exquisite  and  wonderful  mechanism  of  the  human 
body,  but  that  the  human  mind  itself — emotion,  intel- 
lect, will,  and  all  their  phenomena — were  once  latent  in 
a  fiery  cloud.  Surely  the  mere  statement  of  such  a 
motion  is  more  than  a  refutation.  But  the  hypothesis 
would  probably  go  even  further  than  this.  Many  who 
hold  it  would  probably  assent  to  the  position  that  at  the 
present  moment  all  our  philosophy,  all  our  poetry,  all 
our  science,  and  all  our  art — Plato,  Shakespeare,  New- 
ton, and  Raphael — are  potential  in  the  fires  of  the  sun. 

We  long  to  learn  something  of  our  origin.  If  the 
evolution  hypothesis  be  correct,  even  this  unsatisfied 
yearning  must  have  come  to  us  across  the  ages  which 
separate  the  unconscious  primeval  mist  from  the  con- 
sciousness of  to-day.  I  do  not  think  that  any  holder  of 
the  evolution  hypothesis  would  say  that  I  overstate  it  or 
overstrain  it  in  any  way.  I  merely  strip  it  of  all  vague- 
ness, and  bring  before  you,  unclothed  and  unvarnished, 
the  notions  by  which  it  must  stand  or  fall 


Surely  these  notions  represent  an  absurdity  too  mon- 
strous to  be  entertained  by  any  sane  mind.  Let  us, 
however,  give  them  fair  play.  Let  us  steady  ourselves 
in  front  of  the  hypothesis,  and,  dismissing  all  terror  and 
excitement  from  cur  minds,  let  us  look  firmly  into  it  with 
the  hard,  sharp  eye  of  intellect  alone.  Why  are  these 
notions  absurd,  and  why  should  sanity  reject  them? 
The  law  of  relativity,  of  which  we  have  previously 
spoken,  may  find  its  application  here.  These  evolution 
notions  are  absurd,  monstrous,  and  fit  only  for  the 
intellectual  gibbet  in  relation  to  the  ideas  concerning 
matter  which  were  drilled  into  us  when  young.  Spirit 
and  matter  have  ever  been  presented  to  us  in  the  rudest 
contrast,  the  one  as  all  noble,  the  other  as  all  vile.  But 
is  this  correct  ?  Does  it  represent  what  our  mightiest 
spiritual  teacher  would  call  the  eternal  fact  of  the  uni- 
verse ?  Upon  the  answer  to  this  question  all  depends. 

Supposing,  instead  of  having  the  foregoing  antithesis 
of  spirit  and  matter  presented  to  our  youthful  minds,  we 
had  been  taught  to  regard  them  as  equally  worthy  and 
equally  wonderful  ;  to  consider  them,  in  fact,  as  two  op- 
posite faces  of  the  self-same  mystery.  Supposing  that 
in  youth  we  had  been  impregnated  with  the  notion  of 
the  poet  Goethe,  instead  of  the  notion  of  the  poet 
Young,  looking  at  matter,  not  as  brute  matter,  but  as 
"  the  living  garment  of  God ;"  do  you  not  think  that 
under  these  altered  circumstances  the  law  of  relativity 
might  have  had  an  outcome  different  from  its  present 
one  ?  Is  it  not  probable  that  our  repugnance  to  the 
idea  of  primeval  union  between  spirit  and  matter  might 
be  considerably  abated  ?  Without  this  total  revolution 
of  the  notions  now  prevalent  the  evolution  hypothesis 
must  stand  condemned ;  but  in  many  profoundly 


236 


thoughtful  minds  such  a  revolution  has  already  taken 
place.  They  degrade  neither  member  of  the  mysteri- 
ous duality  referred  to;  but  they  exalt  one  of  them 
from  its  abasement,  and  repeal  the  divorce  hitherto  ex- 
isting between  both.  In  substance,  if  not  in  words, 
their  position  as  regards  spirit  and  matter  is  :  "What 
God  hath  joined  together  let  not  man  put  asunder." 

I  have  thus  led  you  to  the  outer  rim  of  speculative 
science,  for  beyond  the  nebula  scientific  thought  has 
never  ventured  hitherto,  and  have  tried  to  state  that 
which  I  considered  ought,  in  fairness,  to  be  outspoken. 
I  do  not  think  this  evolution  hypothesis  is  to  be  flouted 
away  contemptuously  ;  I  do  not  think  it  is  to  be  de- 
nounced as  wicked.  It  is  to  be  brought  before  the  bar 
of  disciplined  reason,  and  there  justified  or  condemned. 
Let  us  hearken  to  those  who  wisely  support  it,  and  to 
those  who  wisely  oppose  it ;  and  let  us  tolerate  those, 
and  they  are  many,  who  foolishly  try  to  do  neither  of 
these  things. 

The  only  thing  out  of  place  in  the  discussion  is  dog- 
matism on  either  side.  Fear  not  the  evolution  hypoth- 
esis. Steady  yourselves  in  its  presence  upon  that  faith 
in  the  ultimate  triumph  of  truth  which  was  expressed  by 
old  Gamaliel  when  he  said :  "  If  it  be  of  God,  ye  cannot 
overthrow  it;  if  it  be  of  man,  it  will  come  to  naught." 
Under  the  fierce  light  of  scientific  inquiry  this  hypoth- 
esis is  sure  to  be  dissipated  if  it  possess  not  a  core  of 
truth.  Trust  me,  its  existence  as  an  hypothesis  in  the 
mind  is  quite  compatible  with  the  simultaneous  exist- 
ence of  all  th  ose  virtues  to  which  the  term  Christian 
has  been  applied.  I.t  does  not  solve — it  does  not  pro- 
fess to  solve — the  ultimate  mystery  untouched.  At  bot- 
tom it  does  nothing  more  than  "  transport  the  concep- 
tion of  life's  origin  to  an  indefinitely  distant  past." 


(  73  ) 

For,  granting  the  nebula  and  its  potential  life,  the 
question,  whence  came  they  ?  would  still  remain  to 
baffle  and  bewilder  us.  And  with  regard  to  the  ages  of 
forgetfulness  which  lie  between  the  conscious  life  of  the 
nebula  and  the  conscious  life  of  the  earth,  it  is  but  an 
extension  of  that  forgetfulness  which  preceded  the  birth 
of  us  all.  Those  who  hold  the  doctrine  of  evolution 
are  by  no  means  ignorant  of  the  uncertainty  of  their 
data,  and  they  yield  no  more  to  it  than  a  provisional 
assent.  They  regard  the  nebular  hypothesis  as  proba- 
ble, and  in  the  utter  absence  of  any  evidence  to  prove 
the  act  illegal,  they  extend  the  method  of  nature  from 
the  present  into  the  past.  Here  the  observed  uniform- 
ity of  nature  is  their  only  guide.  Within  the  long  range 
of  physical  inquiry  they  have  never  discerned  in  nature 
the  insertion  of  caprice.  Throughout  this  range  the 
laws  of  physical  and  intellectual  continuity  have  run 
side  by  side.  Having  thus  determined  the  elements  of 
their  curve  in  this  world  of  observation  and  experiment, 
they  prolong  that  curve  into  an  antecedent  world,  and 
accept  as  probable  the  unbroken  sequence  of  devel- 
opment from  the  nebula  to  the  present  time. 

You  never  hear  the  really  philosophical  defenders  of 
the  doctrine  of  uniformity  speaking  of  impossibilities  in 
nature.  They  never  say,  what  they  are  constantly 
charged  with  saying,  that  it  is  impossible  for  the  builder 
of  the  universe  to  alter  His  work,  Their  business  is 
not  with  the  possible,  but  the  actual  j  not  with  a  world 
which  might  be,  but  with  a  world  which  is.  This  they 
explore  with  a  courage  not  unmixed  with  reverence,  and 
according  to  methods  which,  like  the  quality  of  a  tree, 
are  tested  by  their  fruits.  They  have  but  one  desire — 
to  know  the  truth.  They  have  but  one  fear — to  believe 


aSS  (  74  ) 

a  lie.  And  if  they  know  the  strength  of  science,  and 
rely  upon  it  with  unswerving  trust,  they  also  know  the 
limits  beyond  which  science  ceases  to  be  strong.  They 
best  know  that  questions  offer  themselves  to  thought 
which  science,  as  now  prosecuted,  has  not  even  the  ten- 
dency to  solve.  They  keep  such  questions  open,  and 
will  not  tolerate  any  unlawful  limitation  of  the  horizon 
of  their  souls.  They  have  as  little  fellowship  with  the 
atheist  who  says  there  is  no  God  as  with  the  theist  who 
professes  to  know  the  mind  of  God. 

"Two  things,"  said  Immanuel  Kant,  "fill  me  with 
awe  :  the  starry  heavens  and  the  sense  of  moral  respon- 
sibility in  man."  And  in  his  hours  of  health  and 
strength  and  sanity,  when  the  stroke  of  action  has 
ceased  and  the  pause  of  reflection  has  set  in,  the  scien- 
tific investigator  finds  himself  overshadowed  by  the 
same  awe.  Breaking  contact  with  the  hampering  de- 
tails of  earth,  it  associates  him  with  a  power  which  gives 
fulness  and  tone  to  his  existence,  but  which  he  can 
neither  analyze  nor  comprehend. 


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